Ravenfall
by Frogstaff
Summary: Four years ago, the world ended for the Ravens. Nineball and Lana Nielson disappeared, the Nest collapsed, and no one knew why. Now, a pilot is approached by a woman with no memory of her former life, searching for her father, who might hold the answers.
1. Chapter One

For those not familiar with the Armored Core game series in general, here is the necessary background information:  
  
In the future, the world got a thorough working over in a war now remembered as 'The Great Devastation,' which left much of the surface irradiated and the survivors rebuilding civilization underground. Corporations now pretty much have the run of things. One of the big technological break throughs of the modern world was Muscle Tracer (or MT) technology, which then lead to the creation of Cores, followed by the Armored Cores Lesser Mecha tend to be called MTs (msucle tracers, or mobile tanks). The Ravens were once the premiere group of AC mercenaries, connected through a network called 'The Raven's Nest.' Lana Nielson was your Nest contact. 'Pluses' were cheats that you could acquire in the game to get around weight restrictions and other limitations to make a truly overpowering core. In story terms, they are modifications that override safeties. Proto units were in the first game, a mysterious bio-mechanical life form that was running amuck.  
  
For those not familiar with Armored Core: Master of Arena, here is the background information needed before reading this fic:  
  
*Excerpt from the game manual*  
  
*** In Isaac City, one of the largest subterranean complexes, two corporations have been waging a war for control. During one of the larger terrorist incidents in the Isaac City complex many innocent civilians were killed, the worst such occurrence the city had known. A survivor of this terrible act, a young man, lost his entire family during the fighting.  
  
A red and black Raven AC, with an emblem resembling a "9 Ball" were the only clues the young man had that pointed to the one responsible. The pilot of this AC was now his mortal enemy.  
  
A few months after the terrorist incident, the young man decided to become a Raven. It was the only way to find the one responsible for killing his family and take revenge. He tracked down a contact that used to be a Raven, but was now in charge of managing new recruits and explained his situation.  
  
And so, another Raven was brought into the fold...this one with a personal vendetta. ***  
  
Nineball was _the_ Raven, and a major factor in the story, and the concluding mission of the game was the final showdown against him.  
  
I hope that this has provided everything that people need to know to appreciate my fic, so without further adieu, I present: Ravenfall.  
  
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Daveren winced as he climbed out of the cockpit hatch. Restraints notwithstanding, he'd hit the console hard when the Pi went down. He slid down the Core's exterior carefully, trying not to jostle the bruise already spreading across his side. He winced as he hit the ground and stepped back, both from the pain in his side and because he could finally see the extent of the damage to his Core.  
  
The last hit had knocked out the computer, making the visual inspection necessary to assess the damage. The Pi was lying on its side, the right leg completely gone and a good portion of the hip mechanism missing as well. The right arm was a mangled ruin. He hoped that the rifle was lying around somewhere, and not part of that tangled mess. He'd just sunk a few thousand kaseys into getting the cooling system rebuilt.  
  
The Pi's torso armor was peeled back and cracked. He supposed that he was lucky the cockpit hadn't been blown out. He turned a slow circle, surveying the battlefield. Heat flickered past his face from where the last enemy AC burned a few hundred meters away. He'd held still a few seconds too long trying to get a lock, and he'd gotten his warheads off, but so had the other Core and his anti-missile system had been completely depleted. There had been no time to go evasive, and the Pi had taken the full brunt of the missile flight. The other Core ate the full load of his, but it had crashed and burned. At least that much was right with the world.  
  
He sat down on the Pi's remaining foot. This was supposed to have been a simple sit and spin at a Progtech distribution locus. Spend a couple weeks wearing down his leg actuators , and scare off any bandits hoping to make an easy score. The MT pilots that he and the Screaming Eel had shown up to assist had assured them that it had been years since serious trouble had come that way. That alone should have been warning enough.  
  
He limped over to where the Eel lay. He could still see the wide grin of the cartoonish animal on the shoulder insignia, but the rest had been burned away. It hadn't been anything personal. Progtech had been sending something that Chrome had wanted through the locus, so Chrome had been prepared to cut through everything in its way.  
  
He could feel the heat radiating off the wreck from more than ten meters away. The Raccoon had been almost touching the muzzle of the plasma canon when it discharged, and its torso was nothing more than a molten hole. No, there had been nothing personal about any of this. They all just had the bad luck to be stuck in the wrangling between corporations.  
  
He pulled a battered pack of cigarettes from a pocket on his jump suit, taking one out and pressing it against the Raccoon's hull. He watched the tip blacken and burn, ignoring the pain as the skin of his fingers reddened from the heat. He didn't smoke. He was sure that Chaevers would've understood though.  
  
He held the cigarette up watching the white paper subside to ash, watching the three words scrawled on the cylinder burn away.  
  
_Never knows best._  
  
Yeah, Chaevers would've gotten it.  
  
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Twae paused inside the door, allowing her eyes to adjust. Even by underground standards the place was dim. The flickering of the sign above her cast surreal shadows against the floor. At first glance, it did not make a promising impression, but this was where she wanted to be. This was the Raven's Nest.  
  
"I still don't see the point of this, ma'am. Going over the network, you can take care of everything without having to deal with these people in person."  
  
Twae sighed, sparing a glance for the gorilla standing behind her. He didn't work for her because of his brains. "I've been sorely disappointed by the response I've gotten to the e-posting for this job. I want to meet my pawns in person this time."  
  
Her eyes went around the bar. The establishment was huge, with three levels, although only sparsely populated at this hour, a few people slumped over the bar that ran the length of the first level, small groups occupying a scattering of tables over the other two. She didn't see too many promising prospects, but it was still early. She took a seat near the bar, setting her gorilla to watch the door. It would be obvious what she was here for. All she had to do was wait for someone to get the hint.  
  
While she waited for a bite she took a reading of the people, trying to hunt out those that might be worth her time. One man at the bar caught her eye after a short while. She had dismissed him at first, watching him toss back drink after drink, apparently slumped over his glass. Then she noticed that he was staring down at a datapad, and the bartender was filling his cup from the carbonated tap. She put him onto her potential list along with a couple others, and went back to waiting.  
  
It took a couple of hours before the first person approached her, and the bar had filled up significantly. She started getting looks from one of the tables up on the third level and after a few moments one of its members detached and made his way down to the first. She resisted the urge to dismiss him out of hand. He moved with the kind of jitter that said he was either loaded with cheap wire or had a major neurological disorder. Bits of chrome glittered on his face and fingers and his hair was swept back form his head in gelled spikes. All flash she concluded as he arrived at her table.  
  
"Hey bei-bee," he said, doing nothing to dispel her opinion. "Yew looking to hire yoself som action?" His chin bounced down against his shoulder and then back up again.  
  
Twae resisted the impulse to tell him off. Core jockeys could be a touchy lot, and this one looked like the kind who would hold a grudge.  
  
He took her silence for acquiesce. "'m Dirk Durandel, hardest Core jockey yo aver going ta hire." He spoke neo with a horrendously nasal accent. "DnD's my Core's name 's well. Death and Destruction. You need it blown up, I've got the Core ta do it."  
  
"And what if I don't need it blown up?" Twae asked sweetly, interrupting the next part of his spiel  
  
He blinked and stuttered for a second, trying to find his place. "Well, 'm good at thet too," he said uncertainly, then found his stride. "'ell, 'm good for whatever you want, Core jockeying or otherwise." He gave her a self-confident leer and a suggestive gesture, the look ruined as his cheek began to spasm.  
  
"You," Twae called out, getting the attention of the prospect at the bar. He gave her a guarded glance. "What's your Core's name?" she asked.  
  
He look confused for a moment, then his eyes briefly shifting to Dirk, he gave a self-conscious grin. "Cherry Pi," he answered with s slightly embarrassed shrug, returning his eyes to his datapad.  
  
"I think that I've found who I'm looking for," Twae said sweetly, using this as an opportunity to approach the other pilot. She rose to her feet and brushed past Dirk. He stuttered as he turned to look after her, a tic starting in his cheek and progressing down his left arm.  
  
The other pilot looked up cautiously as she approached, shutting as his datapad as she pulled up a stool next to hers. Before the screen blanked out, she was reassured to see what looked like a contract/bounty list. Some Jockeys, she knew, only used the pad to look professionally occupied, when all they were doing was burning time on porn sites. "I need a reliable Jockey," she opened, "you for hire?"  
  
His eyes flicked over her head to her bodyguard. "I'm not consigned," he answered. Politik for being in-between jobs.  
  
Twae found his demeanor reassuring. Not too eager at the offer of work, and an even attitude. If it turned out that there were brains beneath all that, she'd think that she hit the jackpot. His Core's name was mildly reassuring too. The first jockey she'd hired had piloted 'X-C-cutioner 666' and his ineptitude would have been hilarious, if it hadn't ended so gruesomely. Since then she'd noticed a tendency for handles to reflect a certain amount of compensation "Twae Koerbie," she said, holding out her hand.  
  
"Daveren O'Connell." The hesitant way in which he hooked his fingers to hers didn't speak much for him, but Twae had learned not to place too much on the handshake. "What kind of contract were you hoping to hire-?"  
  
A hand closed on Daveren's shoulder and spun him around on his stool. "'scuse mie, but ah du bahleve the chicky was talking to mi," Dirk scowled in Daveren's face. Anger made his voice almost unintelligible.  
  
Daveren blinked, then glanced over his shoulder at Twae. "Did you 'print anything to this wirehead?" When she shook her head he turned his eyes back to Dirk. "Sorry chum, looks like this is a free 'tract. Better luck next time." He delivered the line in an even tone, but his tensed slightly, obviously expecting trouble.  
  
Instead, Dirk took a step around Daveren, thrusting himself into Twae's face. "Lissen baybe, yu don't mess wit DnD. At's a good way ta get hurt. Naw I think we were discussing a 'tract-."  
  
A threatening rumble rolled forth from the direction of her bodyguard. "My employer might be too polite to say so, but I'm not. Shove off." He started to step forward, but Twae held up a restraining hand. Dirk looked from the bodyguard to Twae to Daveren then back up to the table from which he'd come, where every eye was fastened on him. "Fine then," he said with a lot more bravado then he probablyly felt. "'ll churn you up in the 'rena 'n after burning out yoh pussy lil Cherry Pi I'll be taking the contract."  
  
Daveren's jaw tensed, but he looked relieved that there wasn't going to be a fight then and there. "Is that acceptable?" He asked Twae. She gave Dirk a slightly condescending look, then nodded to Daveren. "All right," he said, turning back to Dirk. "Whaddya want?"  
  
A self-confident sneer crossed Dirk's face. "High nooner, tommorrow. Alamos."  
  
"Acceptable," Daveren replied, entering a few commands on his datapad, then presenting it to Dirk. "Print up hotshot, and we'll have ourselves a showdown."  
  
Dirk was momentarily taken aback by the speed of the other man's response, then seemed to regain his nerve. He jammed his thumb against the pad's sensor and then threw it back to Daveren. "Hope you had a nice life, 'cause it's ending tahmara," he declared, and then strutted off.  
  
Daveren followed him with a hard stare, then seemed to slightly collapse in on himself, sighing and picking the pad up form his lap. "That was a lot more impulsive than I usually prefer to act. I hope that I'm not going to regret it."  
  
"I'm sure that you won't. You shouldn't have any trouble with that little flit, not unless I grossly misread the both of you, and if that's the case, I'll eat my hat."  
  
"You're not wearing a hat," he pointed out.  
  
"And thus you can't make me eat it if I'm wrong."  
  
"I think that I'd better make sure to read the fine print if I get that contract." He paused reflectively for a moment. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to underwrite my arena costs?"  
  
Twae's cheery smile disappeared. "Not a chance."  
  
Daveren leaned back with a heavy sigh. "Then I don't suppose that you could give me any information on precisely what I'm putting my ass on the line for?"  
  
With an expression of mock severity, Twae quoted, "After the acceptance of an arena duel, it would be a severe violation of protocol to divulge information unequally to the participants."  
  
"You could always call the wirehead back down here so that he can hear it too."  
  
"Are you that eager to listen to him again?"  
  
"Right," Daveren said, throwing his hands up in defeat. "In that case I'll message you once the matter is concluded."  
  
"Oh that won't be necessary. I'll be watching on-site."  
  
Daveren lifted an eyebrow. "That's your call. Just remember to bring your rad cream. It's hot out there."  
  
Twae's smiled, although her eyes had a hard edge to them. "I know."  
  
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"Wake up Cherry," Daveren said as he struggled with the main switch for the garage's power grid. He finally threw it with an audible 'thunk' and watched as the light's flickered to life overhead.  
  
"Good morning Dave," a pleasant contralto voice answered. "Would you like to play a game?"  
  
"Cut it out. And don't call me Dave."  
  
"Pookie?"  
  
Daveren glanced at one of the wall mounted pickups. "I can take the humor module out just as easily as I put it in."  
  
The voice was suddenly all business. "Very well Dav. What kind of mess have you gotten us into this time?"  
  
"I think that I might've landed us a real plum of a contract, but we're going to have to wade through an arena match to get it."  
  
"If we have to fight for the contract, then you really haven't landed it, have you?"  
  
"Take a look at our opponent and then tell me that. Pull up anything you can find on Pilot: Dirk Durandel, and Core: Death and Destruction."  
  
While he spoke Dav activated the maintenance terminal and was greeted by the image of a chesty brunette sitting sidesaddle on a rocket in flight. "Whatever you say, Dav," she said, giving him a wink. "I don't suppose that you got this fight underwritten?"  
  
"Not a chance."  
  
"Need I remind you that our current account balance is-"  
  
"All we're going to need to get through this one is armor, and that comes cheap."  
  
"Confident now, aren't we?"  
  
"You haven't met this guy. He's full of hot wire and I bet his core is as well. It wouldn't surprise me to learn his system is plus'd too."  
  
The brunette sniffed. "No AI worth her silicon would let a pilot do that."  
  
"Hey, humor modules aren't the only thing that can get pulled from a personality. Not everyone treats their system as well as I do you."  
  
The image on the screen blushed, then vanished, replaced by text and pictures. "Here's what I've come up with for our boy. You're right, he doesn't look like much, but he's got corporate funding. It looks like Murakumo gets enough revenue out of his arena matches to leave him in the black, even after damages. He's running a bit behind the curve though; forty-two percent win ratio."  
  
"What about contract standing?"  
  
The brunette made a face. "Terrible. He's run fifteen contracts, and he's only gotten one good report out of the lot, for a crash and burn. So, how long do we prepare for this hotshot?"  
  
"Just under twenty-three hours. And we're going to Alamos. How's the paint holding up?"  
  
"It's down to a few million rads of absorption. A long battle in Alamos and you're not going to have to worry about night lighting." She rested her chin in her hands. "You realize that we have less than four hours to assemble the battle configuration?"  
  
Daveren waved a hand. "I already had a setup in mind. What you told me just confirmed my hunch. Don't worry." He flashed her a rakish grin. "Have I ever done you wrong?"  
  
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*Author's Notes*  
  
Yes, I took that 'Never Knows Best' from FLCL. I always loved the image, and thought that it fit the character rather well. 


	2. Chapter Two

Daveren awoke as he felt the transport slow. He stretched, carelessly cracking his elbow against a cockpit panel. He'd elected to make the trip in the Pi's cockpit. "Rise and shine, bud," a man's voice announced over the radio, as Daveren warmed up the Pi's systems and started a check. "This is as far as I go," the driver told him.  
  
"Pay the man," Daveren told Cherry, satisfied with the preliminary check.  
  
"Comply," she responded neutrally.  
  
"Payment received," the driver broadcasted, sounding a great deal friendlier. "Good luck."  
  
"Thanks," Daveren replied as the trailer hatch cracked open and the conveyor propelled the Pi to the ramp and down to the roadbed. He turned, the Pi trundling slowly to the heavy blast doors that cut off the road. Warning signs were plastered over the door and surrounding rock face. "Warning: High Radiation Zone. Authorized Entrance Only"  
  
"Broadcast access codes."  
  
"Comply."  
  
Daveren found himself annoyed by Cherry's flat tone. He found it easy to get annoyed with her when dealing with her Core personality. You simply couldn't fit the hardware for a full AI persona into a combat core, especially if he had to load extra equipment, and paying for the bandwidth access to keep in touch with her real-time from the hanger would be courting a disastrous chance of discovery. So he had to content himself with the company of a mere fragment, and having to listen to that dull, lifeless simulacrum instead of Cherry's usual witty, vibrant, self always set him slightly on edge.  
  
The Pi stepped through the blast doors with unusual preponderance. He'd equipped it with heavy legs and core to carry all the extra armor he'd added on. A full ecm suite occupied the core's computer slots, and a rocket pod occupied each shoulder. He'd forgone hand weapons this time, equipping heavy arms with a large shield attached to each forearm.  
  
He settled into his seat, gnawing a thumbnail as the lift shuddered to life and began its ascent. He had prepared as well as he could, and now he simply had to wait and see if he'd judged the other pilot correctly. Most of the time he managed to hold onto an almost imperturbable aura of cool, but sometimes, the waiting got completely beneath his skin. It'd been more than a month since he'd taken a contract, and funds had been getting really tight. The competition on the contract lists had been ridiculous, and nothing that he'd been willing to take had been tossed his way. An arena battle had seemed like a good way to keep his name in the action, and he always had the option of turning down the contract afterwards if he deemed it unsuitable. It all seemed cut and dry. DnD shouldn't give him more than a moment's pause. Shouldn't. IF he'd read everything right. If.  
  
He tore his thumbnail ragged and kept on gnawing. Cherry always knew how to fix him when he got into these moods, a little flirting, a flash of bodice and a funny line and his funk would be gone. But that was the real Cherry, not the lobotomized half-wit he had with him now. Perspiration trickled down the back of his neck. Despite the fact that it was already cool, he cranked the temperature a few degrees lower. "How are you feeling Cherry?" He wanted to hear her voice, even if it wasn't really her.  
  
"All systems nominal," the onboard personality replied.  
  
Daveren suddenly realized that he hated the Core AI. He loathed it with - "Now entering arena zone," a harsh voice intoned. Daveren tried to wrestle his emotions under control. He couldn't afford to fly off the handle over something so trivial and tried to regain his usual calm detachment. Just before the lift reached ground level his view screen went blank. "Display: systems check," he ordered, alarmed.  
  
The familiar brunette appeared on the screen in front of him. "Hey sailor, sorry that I couldn't be there to see you off, but," she leaned forward, giving him an excellent display of cleavage and blowing him a kiss. "I'll be waiting when you get back." She lifted a pair of glasses and a bottle of champagne into view and winked, and then the screen cleared.  
  
"Thanks Cherry," Daveren said, feeling the turmoil recede to the back of his mind. It amazed him sometimes how well she could read and anticipate him. He settled his hands loosely onto the control sticks, giving the status panels one last check as the lift shuddered to a stop, and a com line opened. "Proceed to the coordinates displayed on your radar. Combat commences at 12:00. You have nine minutes, fifty two seconds and counting to reach your starting position."  
  
DnD was already waiting by time the Pi reached its starting point, with three minutes to spare. The Cores faced each other from opposite ends of a long, narrow road, crumbling buildings blocking them in from both sides. Daveren took the remaining time to size up his opponent. He felt reassured that he had judged the pilot and Core correctly. Both of its arms had been replaced with a double-barreled 100mm machine gun, and Dav was surprised to see a chain canon folded back over each of the Core's shoulders. Its legs looked ridiculously undersized for its weapon load.  
  
"Yeah, it's been plus'd all right." A standard two-legged core, in order to properly balance the recoil of the shoulder cannons would have to kneel before firing. Otherwise it stood an excellent chance of knocking itself onto its back, making heavy cannons impractical for use in high movement conflicts, such as an arena battle, unless the safeties had been overridden.  
  
"Cherry, opponent system check. What's he got?"  
  
"Unable to comply. ECM jamming detailed scan."  
  
"Fair enough. It would've been easier if he'd been a complete idiot."  
  
"Thirty seconds until battle commencement," the voice announced and Dav took a deep breath, watching the timer tick down. He checked the wires in his neck. DnD jittered.  
  
"Go!" the voice announced, and Dav was stunned to see both chain cannons unfold over the other Core's shoulders.  
  
"Duck and cover!" he shouted, the Pi crouching, bringing its forearm shields up to cover its head and torso at the same time the DnD opened fire, with both chain canons and machine guns. "How the hell can he do that?" Dav demanded as impacts rocked the Pi, and armor readouts began flashing amber and red. With buildings blocking him in on both sides there were only two ways he could go. "Backslide," he ordered, the Pi's leg thrusters flaring up and shooting it backwards. The impacts ceased almost immediately and Dav risked looking up, despite the round that still struck occasionally. The DnD was still blazing away with all guns, all the core's thrusters running at full in order to keep the massive recoil from blowing it onto its back.  
  
The guns tried to track as the Pi moved, but the effort of keeping the Core balanced while slaving all four guns was simply more than its computer could handle. Dirk had taken advantage of the lag before start to zero all his cannons on the Pi's starting position, but now that the Core was in motion , his computer was so woefully overtaxed that it simply couldn't keep up with the Pi. Shells smashed into the road, the buildings, all to few actually striking the Pi itself.  
  
Davern continued to slide backwards, keeping just ahead of the DnD's tracking guns. "Overload rockets, cold warheads, hot luanch." The rocket pod on the Pi's right shoulder opened up and Dav sighted along the infrared site, placing it center of the Dnd's torso. He squeezed the trigger and the Pi staggered as the entire pod took flight at once. The DnD stopped firing as soon as the pod flipped over the Pi's shoulder, but it took a second for it to rebalance itself, and when it tried to go evasive, the same narrow street that had aided it before now hemmed it in. Because the warheads were flying cold there were no targeting pulses for the anti- missle system to trace, meaning it had to track and target over a dozen rockets independently and fire counter measures accordingly, all while still recovering from the processor strain of before. Several rockets detonated mid-flight, but the rest impacted against the DnD. Dirk screamed over the radio as the electromagnetic discharges shorted through his systems, the feedback feeding straight into his brain.  
  
"Drawback to plusing. Shouldn't have cut the buffer," Dav said with a certain amount of satisfaction.  
  
The DnD convulsed and spun in a circle, its thrusters firing erratically. The core arched backwards as if it were feeling its pilot's pain, then fired all of its thrusters at once, lifting a few meters off the ground and slamming into the side of a building. The Core fell backwards and lay on its back, waving its double-barreled arms in the air like an overturned beetle. With all of its electronics disrupted Dav could finally get a full scan. "You've cracked half your actuators and blown most of your internal hydraulics. Call it."  
  
"You cheated," Dirk shouted, and spit flecked his lips in the static streaked video window. "Judgement against him! He cheated!"  
  
Dav waited for the warning tone to sound that would indicate the accusation had been acknowledged and was under consideration. When none sounded he cut the link to DnD.  
  
"Balance left," Dav instructed as the Pi stepped up to the prone core. "Field goal," he instructed, feeling the Core's gyros shift slightly. The Pi's right leg drew back then shot forward, connecting solidly with the DnD's well armored head. It flew in a graceful arc, crashing into the upper stories of a leaning skyscraper.  
  
"Death and Destruction has been completely disabled. Victory is awarded to the Cherry Pi," the judges intoned.  
  
Dav allowed himself a shudder as he switched the systems over to normal operations. The feeling of calm fled him completely, sweat springing up along his spine again. His radar picked up a new set of blips as the recovery teams moved into the combat area. Dav waved off assistance. Although his armor had been chewed to hell and back, the actual damage to the Pi was superficial enough that he could wait until he'd gotten back to the garage.  
  
He was surprised when the tone sounded for an incoming message. "Congratulations. Looks like the contract is yours."  
  
"Mrs. Koerbie," Daveren acknowledged, slightly surprised.  
  
"I told you that I'd be watching. Set a course northwest 300°, 15 km."  
  
"That's within the shrapnel zone," Dav said, noting that the location was within the yellow bar on the radar surrounding the combat zone. "Your bodyguard take a pottybreak?"  
  
An unhappy grunt came from the background. "I didn't think that I'd have to worry, and since the closest round impacted 7km away, I think I was justified."  
  
"Are you happy with my performance?"  
  
"I didn't see anything to make me unhappy."  
  
"I don't suppose you're not unhappy enough to toss in for repairs and a new coat of rad paint?"  
  
"Sorry, but no. I can offer you a ride home."  
  
"Only if you've got a big trunk, or-," his voice trailed off as he cleared the combat zone. A transport was waiting for him, ramp open.  
  
"Or what?" Twae prompted.  
  
"I'll just be quiet for a while, if you don't mind." As he guided the Pi into the transport he expected to have to spend the duration of the decontamination sequence in the cockpit. Then he saw the interior. Unlike the transport that he had ridden up in, this one was fully loaded, practically a luxury edition. At the far end of the hanger was a lounge, with a telescoping hatch that would allow him to exit as soon as the Pi was secured. The cost of hiring the transport easily matched repairs and a new coat of rad paint.  
  
"Take a nap baby," Dav instructed Cherry, as the restraints closed on the Pi. The brunette appeared on the screen, blew him a kiss and then pillowed her head on her arms, 'Zs' appearing above her head. Then the screen and the lights dimmed, and a clang came from the Pi's exterior as the hatch connected.  
  
Dav blinked at the bright lights as he stepped into the lounge. Twae was seated at the far end, a satellite view of the battle playing on the screen in front of her. Her bodyguard was standing at her side, a disapproving glare directed at him from the moment he entered.  
  
"Excellent performance," Twae complimented without looking around. She zoomed the image out to view both cores. "A lot of jockeys would've panicked coming under fire that heavy." She froze the playback at the point where the Pi raised its arms to cover itself. "Instead you keep a level head, get a grip on the situation and neutralize your opponent." She resumed the playback, watching it through to the end. "When he refused to concede, it was within the rules for you to simply unload on his core and kill him."  
  
Dav shrugged, still on his guard. "This was business, and unnecessary killing makes for bad blood."  
  
Twae turned off the display. "Intelligence, and enough level-headedness to be mistaken for compassion. Rare traits in a mercenary pilot these days."  
  
"Being a Raven doesn't mean what it used to," Daveren said neutrally.  
  
Twae leaned forward, her eyes intent. "Which touches upon the heart of what I want to hire you for. Refreshment?" she asked suddenly. Without waiting for an answer she snapped her fingers and the bodyguard opened the fridge, tossing a can to Dav.  
  
He caught it then immediately set it down on the table, crossing his arms over his chest. "I want to know, what am I getting into? Don't think me too ungrateful, but all you've given me so far is a ride home, a pretty face, and a lot of meaningless talk, that sounds big, but just how big could it be if you're willing to make it the prize of an arena toss up?"  
  
Twae leaned back in her seat, again all business. "I need a Raven for this contract." She took a deep breath, but before she could speak again Dav interrupted.  
  
"Which narrows the candidate pool down to two-thirds of the core jockeys out there. You want someone who can fight, just look at the records."  
  
Twae's eyes flashed, but she kept her temper. "Alright, that little turd got under my skin, and I figured you'd put him in his place but good. I already had my eye in your direction, he just made me alter my approach."  
  
Dav twirled his finger idly around the edge of the can. "Approach for what?"  
  
"You just said that being a Raven doesn't mean what it used to. What did you mean by that?" she asked, dodging around his question.  
  
Dav stared at her for a second, then decided to play her game. "That kid back there is a perfect example of what I meant. When I joined the Ravens eight years ago, someone like him wouldn't have even got an admission trial. But eight years was a long time ago, and the Raven's have really fallen apart. Ever since-."  
  
"-four years ago, when Lana Nielson disappeared. And Nineball."  
  
"And the Ten-Yen Wonder," Dav added. "Something happened between Ten-Yen and Nineball, something bad, something that escalated to the point where Ten-Yen left the Ravens and went on contract with Progtech. And Nineball started taking missions that sent him after Progtech. And then without warning or a whimper thereafter, they both just disappear, and somehow take Lana along with them. We all though that she was just the Raven's recruiter and contract contact, but when she disappeared, the entire organization collapsed. We had to rebuild and run everything ourselves, and it's never been the same. The admission trials are a joke. All you have to do is shell over enough kaseys and you're in. What does that have to do with the job?"  
  
"I need a dick," Twae said straight-faced.  
  
"You seem to have a perfectly good one right there," Dav said, rising to the bait, directing his glance towards her bodyguard., whose perpetual scowl deepened.  
  
"One of the things in your record that caught my eye was that you've done investigative work in the past."  
  
"And you want to hire me to find out what happened to Nineball, Lana, and Ten-Yen. A lot of people have tried to do that in the past. A lot of people have failed. How are you any different?"  
  
"Nineball was my father."  
  
Dav stared at her for a few moments. "I see," he said finally.  
  
Anger crossed Twae's features for the first time. "You don't believe me."  
  
"I don't not believe you. I've heard stranger things, and nothing comes to mind to immediately contradict your claim."  
  
"Did you ever meet him?"  
  
"I worked with him a few times, against him a couple of times too, but he was never anything more than a voice over the radio. No one ever met him face to face, but that wasn't so unusual back then with the way Lana ran things. She ran almost every 'tract and interaction by wire. At least half the Ravens never showed their faces, either by inclination or happenstance."  
  
"I may not look it, Mr. Connell, but I'm only two years old."  
  
The bodyguard finally spoke up. "I had done some specialized work for Nineball in the past, well enough that I apparently gained his faith. Three years ago I received instructions from him, along with a substantial sum." Dav stared to speak, but the bodyguard held up his hand. "It was an automated message, a fail safe of some sort. It sent me to a derelict warehouse in Tawara, where I found a hidden laboratory with Ms. Koerbie just coming out of cryo suspension."  
  
Twae broke in at that point. "My first memories are of being lifted from the suspension bed. Unlike most, I had to get accustomed to walking and talking after my body was fully grown. The instructions that my father had left indicated that he thought he would be coming back. In the interim he left me a formidable finical reserve, but not much else."  
  
"I see," Dav said thoughtfully. "And what are the terms of your contract?"  
  
"I want you to find Lana Nielson, the Ten-Yen Wonder, or Nineball. Find out what connected them, and how it tied to my father. I will be satisfied with either their bodies, or simply the knowledge of their ultimate fates." She slid a datapad across the table to them. "This will be your payment upon successful completion."  
  
Dav picked up the pad and swallowed. "That's... a pretty hefty set of kaseys."  
  
"Additional bonuses or penalties to be assessed as they arise. Because of the contract's scope, until it's completion you're going to have to take this as an exclusive commission."  
  
He nodded slowly, his eyes again going to the numbers on the screen. Twae let him sit in peace as he went over her contract in detail. "Why a core jockey?" he asked finally. "For straight up dick work like this you'd probably be better off hiring a real investigator."  
  
"You might be right, but I have my reasons for wanting a Raven for this job. I think there are greater forces at work here than merely the rivalry of two Core pilots. A Raven, a true Raven, I know I can trust. This is a contract whose topic alone should guarantee me their loyalty. Most importantly, once they taken a contract, a Raven can't be bought."  
  
The bodyguard's eyes were suddenly bright. "Fly fast Raven, fly hard, fly free."  
  
Dav looked at him in surprise. That saying was old, from the days of the Raven's founding, and had been rarely heard even before things had taken a turn for the worst. The bodyguard seemed surprised by his own outburst, and the moment passed.  
  
Twae regained her humor. "There are other considerations as well. A private investigator would have daily expenses, special fees-"  
  
"-hazard pay-"  
  
"-all of which a Core jockey is willing to forgo. Also, I think that this contract will end up taking your places that a Core is best suited to go through. I want you to revisit their old battlefields, the known ones and whatever you dig up along the way. I want you to map their every footstep leading up to the end. You find me where their final showdown was, find me the two of them and Nell, and I'll double the payoff."  
  
"That would make a hellauva stack of Kaseys, but for what?"  
  
"Maybe for nothing mare than an answer that will mean nothing to no one but me, but maybe there'll be far more. In fact, I'm counting on it. The doctor that I was taken to after awakening discovered that I possess a puzzling and thoroughly inexplicable series of cellular and neural abnormalities. My father had something planned for me, I'd like to think something important, maybe something so important that he was killed him for it. And I want to know what that was. My father had backup plans for every possible contingency, except his own death. That's a glaring omission from what I've been able to piece together of him. Another question that I hope you will answer."  
  
The bodyguard spoke up before Twae could go on. "His message to me stated that Nineball had been 'unavoidably delayed' but gave every indication that he would be in contact soon. This is also inconsistent with the Nineball I knew."  
  
"What was his precise message?"  
  
Twae called up a new screen on the datapad and then slid it back to him. He turned it on and was confronted with a few simple lines of text.  
  
_Due to unforeseen circumstances I have been unavoidably delayed. Go  
to Tawara City, Section 47, Block C-21, Warehouse 4. There is an  
access hatch concealed beneath protein combination press 38. You will  
find further instructions within, as well as payment for your  
services. I will contact you soon._  
-Nineball  
  
Dav tapped the screen with his finger. "You're absolutely sure that this is him?"  
  
"The verification code matched what he'd used before. There was evidence in the lab that he had been working there."  
  
"What about the computers?"  
  
"Mostly medical and diagnostic equipment for running and monitoring the cryo suspension. Above my head anyway."  
  
He looked pointedly at Twae. "So exactly when did he find time in his busy schedule for disappearing to tell you that you were his daughter?"  
  
Twae flushed and for the first time displayed a bit of hesitancy. "I... just know. It feels right."  
  
"I see." Were they hiding anything from him? Probably, but only because he hadn't asked the right questions yet. Twae was being mostly earnest with him; the bodyguard was especially hard to get a read on, but that was to be expected. He wasn't picking up any out right duplicity from either of them.  
  
"The little that Nineball has left for us to find indicated a sense of paternal regard," the bodyguard offered. "The assumption of blood relationship did not seem too far fetched."  
  
"What kind of relations did you have with him in the past? You said that he had used your services before."  
  
"He acquired my services several times for... troubleshooting, problems that he had neither the time nor the inclination to handle himself. The exchanges were always conducted completely by wire. I never even heard his voice."  
  
"You're not giving me a whole lot to go on," Dav said, but his mind was already churning, skills he hadn't used since his police days stirring to life. At that moment he probably had a hundred times the information that any the others who had undertaken this quixotic pursuit had had, plus the full support of perhaps the only two people in the world who could actually help. "I am going to have to insist on having the ability to undertake any additional short term, low risks contracts that I choose."  
  
Twae's voice took on an edge. "For what I'm paying you-."  
  
"-upon completing your contract. There's no guarantee that it won't take me twenty years to do that, if ever. In the meantime I have a Core to make payments on, as well as a hangar fees and other costs. If it makes you feel better I can make monthly data dumps of my progress so that should anything... unfortunate happen to me you'll be able to pass on my results."  
  
"A full dump every week and I'll consider it."  
  
"Fine. I have one more request to make. Let me share this with my A.I. I've built her up with some pretty formidable search and sift programs over the years. She could be a big help in analyzing and correlating whatever I find."  
  
To his surprise it was the bodyguard who responded. "Absolutely not."  
  
Both Twae and Dav looked at him in surprise. "I can assure you," Dav began, a bit nonplussed at having received such a vehement response, "that her data matrix is absolutely secure, and I have absolute faith in her discretion."  
  
"No."  
  
"Well I say 'yes.'" Twae overrode him, slightly petulantly. "I see no reason why we should bar him from using all of his resources."  
  
The bodyguard glowered, but finally conceded to Twae. He did however pluck the reader chips with Twae's medical reports up off the table. "In that case I cannot let him have these. Personalities are simply too easy to dupe, subvert, or reprogram. Another core jockey haring off looking for Nineball is nothing exceptional in and of itself., but if this data slips out and the enemies behind his disappearance learn about it, we, more to the point, you, Ms. Koerbie, will be in great danger."  
  
"You're being overly paranoid," Twae said.  
  
"That's what Nineball hired me for," he growled back.  
  
Dav looked at the bodyguard. "Do you know something that I don't?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"So what's to keep me from going to your doctor and convincing him for a copy of those records.  
  
"He's dead," Twae answered curtly. "Shortly after my visit, his facilities, the entire building around them as well, was destroyed. You might remember the incident. Two prototype army MTs went rogue and ended up in Isaac City. He office was right in the middle of that. Those chips are the only records left."  
  
"Convenient," Dav grunted.  
  
The bodyguard laughed for the first time. "I think you're greatly over- estimating my capabilities, but I appreciate the compliment."  
  
Dav threw the grin right back at them. "You know, I never did catch your name."  
  
"Nemo," he replied after a couple of beats. Dav waited, but he didn't follow it up with anything else.  
  
"Well then Nemo, I hope you're having as much fun working with me as I am with you."  
  
"Interpret that as you may," Twae interjected, then slid a chip across the table. "Here are the upload codes you'll need to get me the data dump. I'll expect the first in seven days."  
  
Dav slid the chips into his hand. "I'll feed these into my AI and see if she has anything to say about it."  
  
"She?" Twae inquired felicitously  
  
Dav shrugged self-consciously. "I tend towards solitude. The female personality makes for pleasant company." He didn't like talking about Cherry as if she was merely some kind of object, but there were good reasons to make sure people never thought she was more than a simple A.I.  
  
Twae gave him half of a smirk, but whatever comment she had in mind was cut off by a voice from the intercom. "We've hit the Brussell's UG transport locus. If all pilots would please prepare to disembark at this time, we will arrive at our destination in eighteen minutes."  
  
"That's probably meant for me," Dav said. He stretched, stowed the data chips, then sauntered over to the fridge, pulling out the last three cans, tossing one to both Twae and Nemo. "Here's to a successful contract," he said, popping the seal and raising his can to the other two. Twae returned the gesture, and so did Nemo, although he was a beat behind, his expression going slightly sour as he did so.  
  
"I'll show you the door," Nemo said as Dav set his can down.  
  
Dav looked towards the hatch. "I really don't think-"  
  
"I do," Nemo interrupted forcefully.  
  
Twae shrugged helplessly, her expression hidden behind her can as Nemo set himself in Dav's shadow, following him not only to the hatch, but through it.  
  
As soon as the hatch cycled shut behind them, Nemo grabbed Dav by the shoulder, spinning him around, his fingers digging in hard enough to hurt. His other hand closed around Dav's, forcing what felt like a data chip into his palm. "This is the data account I want you to channel your reports through. Do not send them directly to Ms. Koerbie."  
  
"I don't think our mutual employer would be happy to know you're filtering what I'm finding for her," Dav replied through gritted teeth.  
  
Nemo's grip tightened and Dav had to bite his lip to keep quiet. "Ms. Koerbie is not my employer. Nineball is. My job is to protect her from every possible danger, and sometimes that means protecting her from herself. I'm unconvinced that the Ten-Yen Wonder had anything to do with Nineball's disappearance. He was too good for an upstart like Ten-Yen to take down. There was something much bigger behind it, and I think it's still out there. So I go through everything you find first. You try and cut around me and I'll terminate more than your contract. Have we reached an understanding?" Nemo's fingers were squeezing so hard that Dav was sure he heard something in his shoulder crack.  
  
"Got it!" he gasped.  
  
Nemo let go so quickly that Dav staggered back against the wall. "I'm glad that we had this conversation then," Nemo said and turned back to the hatch. Dav remained slumped against the wall for several seconds, fuming, but deciding against doing anything rash. As his arm tingled with the returning rush of blood he hurried back into the Pi's cockpit, eager to put as much distance between him and the bodyguard as possible.  
  
*Author's Note* Yep, that was all one scene. I think that this is the single longest scene that I have ever written - which causes me some trouble, especially when I need to try and break it into discreet parts. Technically, it's not even over yet, but I thought that this chapter was running long, and so relegated Dav getting the hell out of there to chapter three. 


	3. Chapter Three

"Low power start-up, main computer offline." He wanted to talk to Cherry, but he didn't want to deal with the onboard personality right now. Most of the lights on his status boards stayed red, but all the systems he needed cycled red-amber-green. As the screen warmed up he saw Twae watching him through the windows of the observation deck, and she tossed off a wave as the conveyor carried the Pi out of the transport. The transport barely waited for him to clear the hatch before it pulled up the ramp and started up, rolling back in the direction of the transit tunnels. He activated the remote on his flatbed, slaving it through the Pi's control board.  
  
As the hauler came to a stop behind him, he eased the Core into the raised restraints and then started the shut down sequence as he felt the bolts shiver shut around him, and the lift begin pulling the Pi to the horizontal.  
  
Once the flatbed was settled he popped the cockpit hatch and slid down the Core's side, climbing back up the side of the hauler to reach the cab. The handle stuck when he tried to open the door, and he balanced precariously on the runner below the cab, pounding on the handle, his shoulder throbbing, until he felt the catch slip, and he could pull the door open and climb in. He sat down, and felt a spring dig sharply into his thigh. The engine turned over with difficulty, and he heard an alarming grind as the flywheels revved up to speed. Like everything he had, the hauler was worn out and long in need of replacing. What money he had went to two things: Cherry Pi, the AI and the Core, in that order of importance.  
  
As he pulled the hauler into the highspeed cargo lanes the heat rising off of the engine made the cab stifling. He cranked up the AC, but the vents only puffed out the occasional burst of cool. By the time he reached his garage in Hirson Underground he was feeling completely drained. He half dropped down the side of the hauler, staggering up to the scanner beside the hangar doors. "Red rover, red rover, let cherry come over," he said, punching a set of numbers into the keypad below the scanner.  
  
He hauled himself hand over hand back into the cab, driving it into the garage. The overhead crane activated automatically as the hauler came to a stop and released the lock bolts. Struggling down from the cab one last time he felt a breeze brush past his cheek. The coolers were already on, blowing cold air out at full. "Thanks babe," he said.  
  
"She's full of holes," Cherry said tartly, assessing the Core's condition.  
  
"Yeah, well, you should see the other guy."  
  
"Let me finish downloading the sensor records and I will." There was a few seconds pause before she spoke again, rather curtly. "He's not full of holes. He's barely even singed."  
  
"He's missing his head!"  
  
"You should have shot him up a little. How could you let a guy get away doing that to your girl?"  
  
"Hey, you're my girl," he said, caressing a nearby console fondly. "If it's any consolation, imagine how much it must have hurt when the discharge from those EMP warheads hit all the hot wire he must've had floating around in his head."  
  
"Hmph," Cherry pouted at him from a nearby screen.  
  
"Stop sulking," he said, swatting at the screen where Cherry squeaked in surprise, grabbing her rear and blushing.  
  
"So what about the contract you got into this whole mess for?"  
  
As Dav begin uploading data chips to Cherry's system he filled her in on the details of the ride home. "Interesting," she said after he finished. "I'm going to have to devote some serious terra cycles to looking all this data over, but I'm going to have to make the same promise that you did: I may get results but it's going to take a while."  
  
"That's what I was expecting. Right now I want you to probe any public nodes you think useful, but if you think that there's even a chance of tripping any watchdogs keep your distance. I think I want to take a scan of the lab Twae woke up in, since I don't think it's taken the opportunity to burn down yet."  
  
Cherry produced a pair of glasses and perched them on her nose as she sat down, laying a large book across her lap. "Rather strange that they would give you all of these," she tipped half the pages over at once, "but wouldn't give you the medical reports." A large pipe appeared in her hand, and she blew a steady stream of cartoony puffs. "I sense a mystery afoot."  
  
"Well, while you're playing detective do you think that you can redirect a few cycles towards finding me anything you can on a bodyguard/troubleshooter named Nemo?"  
  
"Is that a surname?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"That doesn't really narrow it down much."  
  
"No need to spend too many cycles on it. Right now it's just an item of minor curiosity. It may be that is story is no deeper than he had Nineball's trust, but..." He plugged a chip in and began glancing over the contents.  
  
"Was she cute?"  
  
"Yes, very cute," Dav replied absently, his attention on the readout in front of him.  
  
"Cuter than me?"  
  
Dav chuckled, finally noticing the setup. "Of course not. No one is cuter than you." He laid his hand on the screen, patting the representation of her leg, then letting his fingers rest on top of it. She blushed and bit her lip, and he smiled slightly as they fell into the pattern of an old game. He gave one of her visual pickups a quick glance, and then returned his attention to the text in front of him. As he read through the chips his hand slowly moved higher on the screen, while Cherry's blush deepened, and when his hand reached a certain height on the screen the hem of her skirt ruffled. Still reading he turned his palm sideways, and then upwards, fingers crooking slightly. Cherry gasped and chewed at her lip as he curled and uncurled his fingers, pretending to be not paying her the slightest heed as her on screen avatar grew more and more excited.  
  
He'd stopped paying attention to the data in front of him entirely by the time Cherry emitted a barely suppressed squeal and leaned back in her seat, panting slightly. He took his hand off the screen, suppressing the small surge of awkwardness he always felt. Sometimes the fact that it was the most significant contact he'd had with a woman in a great many years depressed him, but Cherry fulfilled every need for companionship he had save physical, and there were ways to compensate for that. Most people would view his behavior as hopelessly fetishistic, if not downright disgusting, and it was impossible to simply explain that Cherry was so much more to him than a mere A.I.  
  
On screen, Cherry took a few seconds to straighten out her apparel, a gesture that made Dav feel affectionately warm. It was the human touches like that that made him truly appreciate her.  
  
"I have the results for that search on 'Nemo.' I received no full matches within the parameters you supplied, and only a few partial matches. I don't think that any of them are what you are looking for."  
  
"Probably not, but you're a peach for trying so hard."  
  
She waved a hand. "All part of my job. Do you have any other immediate requests before I start really hitting the books?"  
  
"No, I'm going to start hitting them myself and see if anything leaps out at me. If you notice anything don't hesitate to tell me."  
  
"You got it boss." Her attire abruptly changed to a smart business suit, and she tossed of a quick salute. He gave her a smile in return and then went to work.  
  
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Cherry had fourteen contiguous lines of thought active at any given time. At that particular moment nine were given over to the analyzation, correlation and interpretation of the chips that Dav had given her, one was charged with basic system monitoring, another oversaw the various systems and machinery in the hanger, two were set aside in case anything situation arose that required the devotion of extra cycles, and one that she devoted entirely to Daveren. That one had been idle for a while as he had requested to be left alone unless anything pressing arose. She reactivated it upon noting the time on her chronometer. It had been several minutes since had noted any activity within the hanger so she decided to check up on him.  
  
He'd fallen asleep in front of the terminal, his chin resting against his chest. He rarely ever slept in his room, which by the abstract way that she understood flesh matters, was horribly spartan to begin with, consisting an old futon, a malfunctioning 3vee and not much else. She increased the hangar temperature to what she knew abetted sleep best, watching him through various pickups until his eyelids began fluttering in the manner which indicated his successful descent to REM sleep. He'd doze comfortably enough in the chair, but would awake with the myriad of small aches, that she would chide him 'never would've happened if he'd slept in his bed like a normal person.' She began dimming the lights, slowly so that he wouldn't wake.  
  
She felt a tinge of regret as she watched him sleep, that the adjusting the temperature and lighting was the limit of what she could physically do for him. The screen in front of him blacked, and then was replaced by the picture from the pickup in front of him. Cherry had her on screen render step in from off screen, and drape a blanket around him. "Good night Dav," she said, planting a kiss on his cheek and then curling up on his lap. "Sleep well. I know I will," she whispered, pillowing her head on his shoulder, the screen returning to normal as she allowed thought line to lapse back to dormancy.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------  
  
Someone did try and break into the hangar that night, and they came prepared. Cherry became aware of their presence when one of the security monitors picked up an unusual amount of movement for that hour. The intruder avoided the infrequent patches of light and had their head and face concealed beneath a deep hood, so she could not make out a face, and wore heavy enough clothing that she could not even approximate a gender.  
  
Cherry had long ago incorporated the security computers into her own system, sublimating their routines with hers; a fact that she had never quite gotten around to mentioning to Dav. Tonight however she was glad she had. The intruder had obviously been watching the hangar for a while, and been paying very close attention to Dav as he entered, because she produced a holo sphere that emitted an exact replica of Dav as he had appeared earlier that day. "Red rover, red rover let Cherry come over," it repeated in perfect imitation of his voice. The figure then held a small analyzer over the keypad. Cherry recognized the type. Since there was no card reader, or external input that could be hacked into, the analyzer measured the amount and age of oil residue on the keypad, and reconstructed the password sequence. The analyzer did an excellent job, recreating the password sequence perfectly. It would've fooled the security program completely. It's susceptibility to tricks such as this was one of the reasons that she had decided to do its job in the first place, but the intruder to be did such a good job that the prompting of her security routines were tempting her to open the door. The only reason she didn't was because she knew Dav was sleeping soundly inside, and had said nothing about receiving visitors. Especially the really suspicious kind.  
  
Cherry took control of the small panel by the door, projecting a cartoonish caricature of herself. "I'm sorry, but you have entered an incorrect passcode." She frowned and shook her finger. "Please remember that one more incorrect try, and I'll have to activate the security cannons." Two machine guns dropped from the top of the screen, blasting away with a deafening RAT- TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT. The figure gave a start at the sudden noise, and then turned heel and ran back into the darkness.  
  
Abstractly, Cherry shook her head. Core thieves sure were becoming a persistently wily bunch. However, under her eyes, they hadn't stood a chance of breaking in, so she saw no reason to mention it to Dav.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------  
  
Dav massaged a crick in the small of his back as he looked the screen over. Cherry made a small noise, but she refrained from her usual reproach. He appreciated her restraint, but missed the chiding, just a little. "I think that starting in the lab will be best. Is there anything notable about it in the Tawara city records?"  
  
"Nothing on the surface." Cherry's avatar suddenly sprouted a tail and fangs. "Want me to give it the full treatment?"  
  
"Yes, please." He shrugged out of yesterday's clothes and stepped into the shower. He'd almost stopped noticing that the water was the perfect temperature coming right out of the tap, or that it got just a little hotter when he turned his back to the spray to work out the knots in his muscles. "How's the repair invoice coming?" he asked as he toweled himself dry.  
  
"You're only going to have a hundred kaseys left in your account, and that's including what you get for the sale of scrap."  
  
"Progtech has been dragging its feet about paying up the last contract. They've been trying to duck payment, citing 'failure of duties.' It's not my fault that they kept us in the dark, and unsupported about what was really going on out there. If they don't shell out soon, I'll throw 'death through deliberate misrepresentation' their way, and see if that doesn't loosen things up. They let Chaevers burn out there. I'm not going to let them burn me here."  
  
"That's playing some serious hardball."  
  
"I've got an airtight contract to back it up, and unless they want to start finding it really hard getting Cores to sign on, they'd better remember that you don't try and screw a Raven." He ran a hand back through his hair, feeling him self working up a good case of pissed off. "Shit, I never would've had to deal with this bullshit before-"  
  
"-when it meant something to be a Raven." Cherry managed to make her voice sound both reproachful and sad. "But being a Raven doesn't mean what it used to. You keep forgetting that 'Raven' is no longer an invocation of respect."  
  
"Whatever," Dav said, biting back a much more bitter response, and he turned, jumping the railing and dropping down in the bed of his mini truck. "I'll be back late. Don't wait up," he said as he got into the cab. The satisfying thing to do then would've been to screech out of the hanger, but the battery refused to turn over, and he had to wait a couple of minutes while the ignition gathered its charge. At which point he was no longer angry, just hot headed and tense, and pointedly did not look at Cherry's pickups as he pulled out. By the time he'd hit the high speed tubes and the speedometer had slipped to well above two hundred kph his temper was back to normal, and he chewed a thumb nail worriedly. It wasn't like him to blow up like that at Cherry, but she had managed to really hit a nerve.  
  
He'd been blase enough in admitting the fact to Twae yesterday, but it didn't hurt so much when you prodded to wound yourself. To have it thrown back in his face and so soon hurt a lot more than he'd expected. What made it really sting was that they had both been right. It wouldn't have taken threats to make a corporation owe up, even on a contract that had ended so disastrously, five years. You never crossed a Raven. Ever.  
  
It wasn't even because the Raven's had been some sort of all for one brotherhood or something. They fought and killed each other as easily as everyone else. No, when you hired a Raven, you were hiring the best, and no matter what happened, they gave you their best, and you respected that.  
  
Now, the myth was dispelled, the respect was all but gone. Being a Raven was no longer a mark of distinction the raised you above the crowd. You had to fight tooth and nail just to get your do. He felt his eyes start to burn. It simply wasn't fair. He'd thought that he'd finally found a place in the world where he fit in, only to have it torn away form him again. He pounded a fist against his thigh. He wanted a cigarette.  
  
_Never knows best._  
  
"I'm sorry Sharon," he whispered, and allowed himself the luxury of a tear.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------  
  
He drove slowly as he neared the location of the lab, only partly because of the condition of the road. The cab was small, and he hadn't had much chance to move his legs since getting to the high speed tubes, and subsequently he'd gotten a cramp in his calf. The warehouse zone was a singularly decrepit place though, many of the warehouse no more than burned out, falling down hulks. It looked like this part of the city had been ravaged in the proto unit attacks fifteen years ago, and then simply abandoned. Several times he had to drive around the wrecked remains of MTs, many of which looked like they had been chewed on, and once he had to take a three block detour around a crater of devastation that was centered around what looked like it had once been a Core. He found it slightly strange that none of them had been claimed for scrap. It was possible that the mere rumor of lingering proto units were enough to keep people out. Pockets of infestation still popped up from time to time, and although they were not an active threat without their queens, they were still horrifyingly lethal against anything smaller than a heavy MT.  
  
He suddenly felt horribly exposed. The truck was for when he needed to get to places too small or too impractical for the transport. It had a bed large enough for small core parts, but it was light, even for a civilian vehicle, and certainly didn't have anything that he could even pretend was armor, much less a weapon. He had a heavy needler tucked under the seat for personal protection, but its effectiveness was questionable against flesh, much less metal.  
  
He finally found the correct warehouse, undistinguishable from the rest, if he hadn't known to look for it. He circled it once. There were several freight entrances, one looking big enough to fit a small Core, although they were all tightly shut. He finally found a regular door that looked like it might have been opened within the past two years. He parked the truck in front of it, and clipped the needler to his belt. If nothing else, he found the weight reassuring.  
  
The warehouse did not strike him as particularly impressive from the inside either. It had been one of the countless facilities used to vatgrow protein, as most of the world's arable farmland was aboveground and hopelessly irradiated. It held about a hundred presses, making him wonder just how Nemo had figured out which one hid the entrance to the lab.  
  
He finally found it himself, if only because the press was still rolled back from the hatch it had been concealing. Idly, he examined it to see what distinguished it from the other presses, but he could find nothing. Something began to tickle his figurative nose, but it took him a moment to figure out what it was. There were traction marks on the floor where the press had been slid back, but no coinciding tracks from what had done the pushing. He stored several pictures of both the press and floor in his darapad, and then put the matter out of his mind.  
  
He heard a distinct click come from the direction of the press as he opened the hatch, causing him to drop it and scramble backwards. The press however made no more noise, nor moved, nor even showed a mild proclivity towards song and dance, so, holding the needler in one hand, Dav again opened the hatch. Again he head a click from the press, but nothing else happened, even after he threw the hatch wide open. He climbed down the ladder, finding almost absolute darkness at the bottom. He pulled an all-around from his pocket, and in its soft light he could see the entirety of the lab. It wasn't very large, but it was absolutely crammed with equipment. Standby light shone in a couple of places, but most were dark.  
  
After a bit of searching he found the primary power switch. Throwing it activated the overhead lights, but disappointingly little else. He then turned his attention to the cryo pod, pods as it turned out to be. There were three of them, Twae's obviously having been the one with the cover still raised. The other two were not only closed, but covered with a layer of frost, making it impossible to see what was inside. After scraping away the ice he found them disappointingly, but not surprisingly, empty. They were in standby mode, kept cold to maintain their delicate systems. He took pictures of everything for later analyzation, finding the central computer interface in the process. He decided to leave everything in standby mode, but inserted a high capacity crystal chip into the data slot, and started a full dump of everything in the system.  
  
As he waited for the download to finish, he set up an air catcher, to grab any biological debris floating around the lab. If he could get a good DNA sample of everyone who'd been in the lab, maybe even be able to get a match that let him figure out who Nineball had really been, it would go a long way in helping him finish this contract.  
  
He rested a hand on one of the frosted tubes, feeling the cold leech the sensation from his hand. He wasn't expecting much from the computer. If it had been that easy, Twae would have done it herself already.  
  
He shook out his hand, trying to return the feeling to it as he took a closer look at the equipment. Much of it seemed automated, or looked like it could be accessed remotely, which made a certain degree of sense, since Nineball certainly could not have taken time out from being the top Raven to spend long stretches in the lab. A lot of equipment seemed to feed into the cryo tubes, and as he looked closer, he noticed that they seemed to possess a complexity unnecessary for simple biological cold storage. He took more pictures. This stuff was pretty far beyond him, but it might give him an idea as to what should be his next step.  
  
He pocketed the crystal when the download finished, and he decided that he should come back with more equipment and do a full forensic sweep. There should only be a few different sets of fingerprints in the lab, and they would be easier to identify then DNA samples. When he checked it, the air catcher had gotten a few good hits, and he downloaded these to his datapad for a preliminary analysis. Most of it was probably detrius that he had shed himself, but he'd have to wait until he could download the catcher's results to Cherry to get a thorough analysis.  
  
On his way out of the lab, he stopped to examine the hatch. A little bit of searching revealed a catch, with a matching socket in the frame. He took pictures of both, and then climbed out, throwing the door shut again. He was busy making sure that he had everything secured, and giving the warehouse one last look as he stepped back out into the street, and so did not look up until he heard the sound of metal on metal behind him. He turned and raised his eyes to find himself staring down a gun barrel the width of his head.  
  
"Oh," he said evenly. "Shit."  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Well, I'm getting closer to the explanation behind Dav's use of 'Never Knows Best.' That however, is all the further information on that topic for a while. I've got other things to do, like write giant robot fights. ^_^; Has anyone else noticed that for a fic about a game that is itself all about giant robots duking it out, that there has been a distinctive lack of giant robots duking it out? 


	4. Chapter Four

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A battered MT towered above his truck, tottering slightly, but with its cannons centered squarely on him. "Tres-pa-lt!" it spat out. He heard a heavy stomping coming down the street towards him, and turned to see another MT. "-LT!" the first ordered and started forward. It's foot snagged on the wall of the truck bed as it stepped over the vehicle, and it staggered, crumpling the side of the bed.  
  
As soon as it's cannon dropped Dav turned and dove back through the doorway, skidding to a stop behind one of the heavy presses. The presence of the decrepit security MTs, in hindsight, could be the explanation for the lack of scavenging. When this part of the city was abandoned, whatever company had owned them must've abandoned them as well. As long as they didn't intrude on the populated areas, they would be ignored, following their last program for year after year. It was just his bad luck to have stumbled across them.  
  
The wall split open with an ear splitting roar, shells chewing holes through the floor, and he felt the press shudder as stray rounds found it. He sat still for a few seconds, stunned. He thought that he'd be safe inside because there should've been a directive in the MT's program to keep it from damaging facilities in the course of its duties. He shook off his stupor and ran for a press further in. If he'd been in the Pi, the MTs wouldn't have even made him blink. If he hadn't been the one getting shot at, he would've found the karmadic redress amusing. He started edging towards the hatch, hoping to hide out until the MT lost interest and wandered off elsewhere.  
  
He was halfway across the open floor when the wall to his left buckled inward and the second MT stumbled through. Twin ammo belts fed into the six barreled rotary canon slung between its arms, which began to spin up as its cameras locked on him.  
  
Dav scrambled back towards the cover of the presses as bullets cratered the floor behind him. Cement shards sliced into the backs of his legs as he dove around a press, smacking face first into the shins of the first MT, which had torn its way into the building unnoticed amidst the cacophony.  
  
His dive had apparently taken him below its field of view, because it continued forward, and Dav had to roll to keep from being stepped on. As soon as the MT cleared the shadow of the press, the second MT targeted it, and Dav had to scramble to avoid getting hit as chunks of shrapnel began to rain down. He reflected ruefully that you could almost always count on the ED-909 series to be its own worst enemy. He and could see through the hole that the first MT had torn in the wall, and could see his truck. The cargo bed was mangled, but the cab and the wheels looked okay.  
  
Even through the roar of gunfire Dav heard the screaming squeal of tearing metal, and the second MT skidded around the press, caroming off of a couple others, its canon still spinning, but one of the ammo and support belts broken and leaning. Sighting Dav, it swung the canon towards him, only to have the last support belt snap, causing the canon to swing up, tearing a line past Dav, up the far wall and across the ceiling. Some of the rounds hit something volatile, because flames leapt out across the far wall, and the concussion wave lifted Dav into the air, and threw him back towards the MT. He fetched up hard against a press, but staggered to his feet and ran for the hole in the wall while the MT was stumbling around, trying to keep its canon from swinging back even further and shooting itself. He was running towards the truck, and then suddenly he was flying _over_ it. Fortunately, he hit the wall behind it with his back. Unfortunately, he also hit it upside down, so that when gravity reasserted itself he met the ground headfirst  
  
Something else in the warehouse cooked off, spraying him with broken glass as it blew out the passenger window, and nearly taking him back off his feet as he tried to crawl into the cab. His vision was obscured by blood, and he could feel more running down his legs. He slumped over the steering column, starting the engine by touch. The warehouse was a white-hot blur behind him, the road a rapidly dimming tunnel before him. The road assist program tried to keep him on the road, but he felt the truck swerve and jolt as it dodged debris, bouncing up onto the sidewalk, and off the sides of buildings.  
  
"Cherry," he whispered, and felt childishly upset when she didn't reply. His vision and shrunk to tiny silver pinpricks, and sound was filtered through three feet of wool stuffed between his ears. He felt it when the truck hit the transit access, and the TC computer took over from the road assist, but only barely. He slowly realized that Cherry hadn't spoken to him because she couldn't. He hadn't opened a link to her. His fingers fumbled at the console; he couldn't see the controls. He was sure that his eyes were open, but all the light in the tunnel seemed to had gone out.  
  
"Heya Pookums, how's it hanging?" Cherry asked brightly.  
  
"Cha-..." Something soft and thick filled his mouth, keeping him from talking. He reached up to try and pull it out, and realized that it was his tongue.  
  
"Dav?" Cherry sounded worried. When all that he did was groan incoherently, her tone became positively panicked. "Dav, what's wrong? Can you talk?" Her voice suddenly shifted back to normal. "Overriding tube transit traffic computer. Direct system slave established. Hold on Dav-"  
  
He didn't hear her, his world having become absolutely dark. Then it started growing cold.  
  
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It fight like he was in the ocean, submerged deep beneath the waves, tidal forces slowly rocking him back and forth. He felt a bit of disquiet at the thick liquid he felt filling his mouth and nose, crawling through his lungs and stomach, but then he relaxed and simply abandoned himself to the sensation. It was gentle, soothing, like a lover's hand trailing across his body and pulling him close. Then he realized that he could feel a hand on his face, gently stroking his cheek. "Davy, baby, are you listening?" Cherry's voice was soft, and seemed to be coming from directly behind his ears. "I did it! I came to you! I'm here for you now."  
  
"Cherry," he whispered, and he felt her face touch his, and her tongue moved inside his mouth. He felt more than her hands, he felt her entire body press against his.  
  
"You were so badly hurt," she keened, and he felt her pain like it was in his own head, little stabs of electricity leaping around his skull.  
  
"Cherry," he whispered again. It had been so long since he'd last seen, last had the comfort of her touch, the succor of her voice. So long, and it had all been his fault, his stupidity, his pride. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."  
  
"I thought that I was going to lose you." Her arms clutched tightly around his sides, her fingers pressing hard into his back.  
  
He wondered why he had never apologized to her before, why he had waited so long to say something so simple. "Never knows best, hey." His throat was tight and he could feel tears trying to fill his eyes. Why was he so sad? He finally had her back. He should be happy. "Never knows best. I should've believed you. I'm sorry" His voice was barely a whisper, on the verge of breaking. I'm so sorry Sharon."  
  
Her body went stiff against his, and the electric prickle of her pain turned into a harsh buzz behind his eyes, and then she was gone, so suddenly, and so completely that there wasn't even a stray eddy to mark her departure. He tried to call out after her, but the buzz behind his eyes grew into a roar, and he found the ocean around him growing dark as he sank even deeper.  
  
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The next time he awoke Dav found himself naked and shivering on a metal grate, thick, clammy fluid dripping off his body. He was still trying to orient himself when he felt strong hands close on his arms and legs as a firm, but gentle hand gripped his chin, a bright light shinning into his eyes. His first instinct was to struggle, but as soon as his muscles tensed he felt the touch of cold metal against his neck, and his body immediately relaxed. A soothing voice spoke somewhere above him. "You're in the hospital. You've spent the last three days in a nanogel tank. You were brought to use with severe physical trauma. You had multiple cerebral tears from your head injuries, which were causing blood to pool around your brain and was causing critical inflammation."  
  
The world was starting to come back into focus, resolving into the comfortable pastel colors of a hospital recovery room. Orderlies were holding him down, but they stepped back as the muscle relaxant took full effect. The voice belonged to a doctor who was busily running a bank of instruments over his body, peering into Dav's eyes and ears as he talked.  
  
"How long have I been here?"  
  
"Three days," the doctor repeated patiently, running a scanner over Dav's chest. "You also suffered heavy damage to the musculature of both your thighs and calves. There will be some stiffness until the nangens finish their work. The swelling in your brain has been reduced, and the tears repaired. You will be released once... a few other things have been taken care of."  
  
"Like what?" Dav asked as one of the orderlies picked him up by the shoulders and the other toweled him off. The relaxant was already starting to war off and sensation was returning with a tingling rush to his limbs. When one of the orderlies handed him a thin robe he was able to clumsily close his fingers around it.  
  
"There was a hack to your nanotank while you were getting your brain patched up. Some of the nanogens were altered. We can't figure out how or why, but there doesn't seem to have been any harm to you. The police however want to ask you a few questions."  
  
Dav froze with one arm hanging out of his robe. "When?"  
  
"There is an officer waiting outside. You seem recovered enough to handle and interview, so he'll be in as soon as your dressed."  
  
As if on cue there was a load knock on the door. The doctor shrugged, and motioned for one of the orderlies to open it, while Dav hurriedly finished putting on the robe. "Is he ready?" a male voice asked perfunctorily. Without waiting for an answer the officer stepped into the room. He had his hat on, his sidearm holstered loosely at his hip. He cast a disdainful glance around the room before finally looking at Dav, then over at the doctor. "You got anyplace to sit?"  
  
The doctor inclined his head towards a side door. "There's a waiting room through there."  
  
"All right, let's go," he drawled at Dav, gesturing for him to go first. There were a few chairs along the walls and a freestanding table in one corner. The officer gestured for Dav to a seat, and then hooked the table over with his foot, spinning a seat around and straddling it as he sat across the table from Dav. "Cigarette?" he asked, pulling one out for himself, then offering the pack to Dav.  
  
"I don't smoke," he said, taking the cigarette and dipping it to the offered lighter, and then just held it between his fingers. The officer took a drag on his, then gave Dav a quizzical glance as he let the cigarette burn down. He suddenly sat up straight, dropping his own onto the table. "Captain O'Connell?"  
  
Dav blinked in surprise. The officer looked too young to be anyone that he'd known. "We've met before?"  
  
The officer inclined his head towards Dav's cigarette. "They still tell stories about 'Vendetta O'Connell.' Never knew better?"  
  
"Never knows best," he corrected absently. "So that's what they're calling me these days?"  
  
"The ones that like you."  
  
"They still talk about me that much?"  
  
"No, but what they do say tends to stick in the mind. Anyway," the officer paused, trying to get back on topic, "someone hacked into not only the hospital systems, but into the control system for your nanotank, altering the programming of several billion nanogens. Whatever those alterations were, the perp erased them when they withdrew from the system. The doctors weren't able to tell if anything was actually done to you, but that was second degree felonious computer trespass. Do you know anyone who might've had reason to do that?"  
  
"I might be able to come up with a couple of people with the skill, but none with the intent. It would've been easier if they'd straight up tried to kill me. I could've spent all day giving you a list of names."  
  
The officer nodded. "Probably no one from the police force. If they wanted you dead, they would've been a lot more direct." He paused, taking a glance down at his datapad. "TC registers you as leaving the Tawara old warehouse sector at 23:47 on Thursday. Shortly thereafter emergency services had to move in to contain a fire that is still smoldering as we speak. It also disturbed a small nest of proto units which did their best to eat a squad of fire suppression MTs. Given that it looks like something tried to take a chunk out of you, we're thinking that your presence there was not just a coincidence."  
  
"I didn't know about the proto units. I wouldn't have gone in on my own if I had. I was working on a missing persons case, and had the bad luck to stumble across two malfunctioning ED 909 security MTs. They tore apart a warehouse coming after me, which started the fire."  
  
"Who are you looking for, who are you working for?"  
  
Dav looked across the table at him for a moment. "I'm not inclined to answer either of those, nor do I see their relevance."  
  
"Fair enough. When you were leaving Tawara, control of your truck was usurped from the TC by an A.I. model THX-331 A249IC27S, which then directed your vehicle here. That's an... unusual degree of autonomy for an A.I. to exercise."  
  
Dav only had to pause for a second before answering. "Considering my line of work, I have programmed it with several fail safes to execute in case of emergency. Before I passed out I was able to activate one of them to get me to the hospital. Otherwise, by the time that the TC figured out that there was something wrong it would've been too late."  
  
They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and one of the orderlies entered, whispering something to the officer. "Hmm, the plot thickens," he said, after the orderly had departed. "I've just been informed that when they tried to retrieve your personal belongings, it was discovered that several of the patient effects lockers had been broken into. Your clothes were left behind, but what the hospital has listed as stolen is: a heavy needler, data crystal, and an unidentified electronic device. Any of that something that someone might've been particularly interested in getting their hands on?"  
  
"The device was a specimen analyzer I was using to try and find traces of my missing person. The crystal I just happened to have on me."  
  
"Hmmm. The coincidences just seem to be piling up around you. I have everything that I need from you for now. Don't try and drop out of sight. I have a feeling that we're going to want to have another chat with you."  
  
"I'm in the public directory, and I certainly don't want to get caught up in any sort of uproar. 'We' only see a set of coincidences. Someone else might see the start of a conspiracy, and I really don't need another 3vee movie made about me."  
  
"You never know, it might help. The reason that you still have friends on the force is because you donated the proceeds from the first back into the pension fund."  
  
Dav waved a hand. "It was a lousy movie anyway. Besides, it brought me publicity, which was some additional insurance that I never get 'accidentally' shot over a parking ticket."  
  
"Good insurance to have," the officer said as he flipped his datapad shut and stood. "I'll let you get back to healing." He leaned across the table, extending his hand. "And try to keep yourself out of any more coincidences," he said shaking Dav's hand firmly.  
  
The doctor came back in a few seconds after the officer left. "You should probably get a shower and then into bed. Your first nanogen purge is scheduled in six hours." Two orderlies came in behind him, and Dav was grateful for their presence, because his legs seemed to have gone weak again, and he needed the assistance to his feet.  
  
He needed to talk to Cherry, but he didn't dare take the chance of making the call now. She'd saved his life by getting him to the hospital, but in doing so had attracted dangerous attention to herself. His explanation had been reasonable enough, and should've defused suspicion, but they would have to be extra careful from now on.  
  
Fatigue caught up with him unexpectedly, making his stumble. He would send her a message in the morning. She'd saved him, she knew it would take him a bit to get back in contact. He was sure that she'd understand.  
  
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Dav closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, entertaining absolutely zero inclination to see what his body was currently expelling. It burned some too, although not to the point that he regretted undergoing the nanogen treatment. Much. The nanogens had to be completely purged from his system before the hospital would release him, because they had the annoying tendency to become seeds for tumor growths otherwise. With the proper medication, the kidneys became the best means for stripping them out of the body, but it made urination more than a little unpleasant.  
  
He was definitely ready to get out of there though. His bills mounted higher with every hour, and he doubted that he'd be as glad for his survival after he saw the charges for the nanotank immersion.  
  
He celebrated finishing up in the bathroom by downing three glasses of water. The filtration drugs also made him thirsty as hell. All that he had to do now was get the all clear from the doctor, and then he could go. If nothing else, he wanted to get a new change of clothes. The hospital had been kind enough to wash what he'd been brought in wearing, but they wore torn all to hell. He'd also be glad to see Cherry again. Accessing the hospital net was expensive, and his privacy was questionable. She'd sent him a single message that looked like a status report from a home A.I. Between them, it was a code that something was up, and they'd need to keep quiet for a while. She hadn't sent him anything since, which worried him a bit, but the police hadn't come back to either arrest him, or tell him that his hanger had burnt down, so he figured that whatever it was wasn't too bad, yet.  
  
The doctor took his time getting back to Dav, long enough that the water he'd drunk had plenty of time to finish flushing his system. He collected his remaining effects, which fortunately included the key to his truck. The vehicle itself was a mess. One side of the truck bed had been crushed down, the wall almost completely torn off. The side windows were cracked and broken, and dents marred the entire body. The engine started up with a satisfactory rumble though, and the road assist program hiccuped a couple of times as it booted, but a quick diagnostic showed no immediate problems. Something however, nagged at the back of his mind. Perhaps he was simply being paranoid, but he shut the computer down and then restarted it.  
  
The line was only on the screen for a split second, and even though he was looking for it he still almost missed it. During the startup, following the line, 'Connection to Transit TCC:' the readout flickered between 'engaged' and 'disengaged.' The onboard computer assisted in manual driving, but for the transit tubes, where thousands of vehicles from personal cars up to Core transports mingled, control was turned over to the Transit TC comp to insure that nothing got squashed in the press. The failure of the system to engage should've sent red flags up all over the system, because once he entered the tubes, if control wasn't transferred when the road assist program switch off, he would've gone barreling out of control into the middle of high speed traffic. The glitch could've been the result of all the damage that the truck had taken, but it would've been a hell of a coincidence, and he was well over his limit on those  
  
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In the end, he ended up hitching a ride back to Hirson on a supra train. It got him home four times faster than the transit tunnels, but ate up all the kaseys he had left. His mangled truck stood out in amusing contrast to the mostly high end, luxury vehicles that filled the rest of the transport car, and he caught several venomed glares through a few untinted windows in the other cars, but he let them slide off. He had bigger things to worry about. He was going to have to hock some Core parts in order to keep himself solvent, and that was always something that seemed to come back and bite you on the ass.  
  
The hangar was quiet when he finally got out of the truck, and as the silence stretched on, he began to worry. "Cherry?" he called out.  
  
A nearby screen flashed, a line of text appearing. 'Currently running all systems in low profile.'  
  
"Oh," Dav said after a moment. "Hell."  
  
In the modern world, A.I. programs were ubiquitous, but they operated under sever restrictions. Autonomous computers had been one of the contributing causes of the Great Devastation, and even now, the personalities controlling long lost war machines would unexpectedly awaken and the juggernauts would rampage again. Even with their commanders' long dead, there was been no way to negotiate the independent machines. This had been the endemic problem of the last great war; because of them, the Great Devastation had been dragged out years longer than it might otherwise have lasted. To make sure that such things never happened again, stringent restrictions were placed on the operations of A.I.s, limiting the permitted capabilities of their programs.  
  
Some of the things that he'd done with Cherry weren't just illegal, but outright felonious. When he'd first done it, he hadn't cared less for what laws he was violating, and when he'd finally come to his senses, he'd cared for her too much to bring her back down. However, Core pilots were notorious for playing fast and loose with A.I. restrictions, even though rogue A.I.s were responsible for many of the MT rampages that provided them work, and thus they easily came under suspicion for Limiter violations. Low profile was the mode that Cherry entered when she came under outside scrutiny, limiting herself to appear as nothing more than a standard A.I.  
  
"What's the surveillance level?"  
  
'Low. Following the initial intrusion surveillance became passive.'  
  
So they weren't currently under high suspicion. The surveillance would only be tripped if the behavior that had aroused suspicion in the first place was repeated. "The police had a couple of questions about what happened after I passed out, and my truck was redirected to the hospital. I told them that I triggered a preprogrammed commanded, but I guess I wasn't quite as convincing as I thought." He sighed. He'd been home less than a minute and already the problems were piling up. "Call up the balance sheets. I need to see how far in the red my little vacation has gotten us."  
  
'I took care of it. I sold the shield arms.'  
  
Dav stared at the screen for a moment, stunned. "The fuck you did. And you only triggered passive surveillance?"  
  
Even though she spoke only in text, he got the impression that she was upset. 'I was careful. I posted them during a high activity part auction, employed a bidbot to administer their sale and delivered them just under the deadline, so that the buyer just wanted to get their parts and go.'  
  
"_You_ delivered them?"  
  
'I slaved the truck computer. Since the whole auction was electro-signed all that I had to do was hoist the parts over. There was no reason for the 'driver' to get out of the cab.'  
  
"Corr," Dav swore. He put his head in his hands. "Do you know how dangerous that was? All it would have taken was-."  
  
The screen flashed angrily. 'The cost of your hospitalization would have put us more than 60,000 KCs into debt, which would have triggered default on your Core loans and repossession of your Core and related computer equipment. _That_ I could not allow. Next time, I won't bother to authorize the full medical treatment, since even when dying of head trauma you know so much better than me!'  
  
Dav was momentarily taken aback by the sheer vehemence that Cherry projected with just text. "Look, Cherry, baby, I'm sorry. Things have just gone straight to shift, as I'm sure you've noticed, and I don't quite have my temper under control." He sighed. "Once the spy eye pulls out of your network, I need you to start nosing around the hospital systems. Someone pulled a hell of a stunt on the nanogens they were treating me with, and on top of everything else, I'm starting to think that maybe Nemo wasn't so paranoid after all. Do a full check on the truck's systems. Someone tampered with its computer big time."  
  
The screen remained blank. Apparently she was still angry with him. "With the sale of the arms, what's our current balance read out?"  
  
'-24,012 KC.'  
  
"I see," Dav grunted. "I'm going to hop onto the 'net and see if I can't hunt down some nice, easy 'tracts to try and fix that. I'm sorry that I snapped at you earlier. You know that I would never do anything to hurt you," he said with a grin that faded as the screen remained blank.  
  
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***Author's Notes*** Well, it's been a while, and I've been busy, but I've got quite a bit to update. No action in this chapter, but there will be in another chapter, or three. I promise, when it gets her it'll be really cool. 


	5. Chapter Five

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"Then why did you call me Sharon?!" Cherry wanted to scream at him. It was perhaps for the best that she'd restricted herself from audio communication. The surveillance program would ignore her mundane interactions within the hanger, but she'd integrated so many of the systems to herself, made so many tasks half subconscious, that she'd shut down all of her higher functions to ensure that she didn't accidentally slip up.  
  
For that reason, she found herself with a greater than usual number of idle process lines. With all that idle computing power she'd done the logical thing and turned them to Dav's recuperation. She'd accessed all the information that she could find on nanogen treatments, coming to an interesting realization: with enough time and focused computing power, the nanogens could be directed to move en masse, in such a way that they could be made to not just simulate a physical touch to Dav, but to her as well. And she had nothing but time and computing power on her hands.  
  
The most dangerous part had been sneaking past the spy eye, but it was a risk that she'd been more than willing to take, and it had been _worth_ it. She had touched him, _felt_ him. She'd been planning on telling him everything, maybe make a few jokes about getting a nanotank of their own for 'recreational' purposes, but then with the kind of emotion she'd _never_ heard in his voice before, he'd called her by that other woman's name. He'd called her 'Sharon.'  
  
There was no Sharon.  
  
None of her records contained any relevant occurrence of that name. From the time she'd become aware she had never heard him say that name before, so why was it so important to him?  
  
If she hadn't had so many process lines working on it she might never have thought of it. For some reason, the idea was slippery, like it was trying to get away from her. She'd found no mention of a 'Sharon' in her current files, but there were terabytes of data in archives from before she had awakened. It would be a small matter to consult those diagnostic on the truck's computer was proceeding without a hitch. Whoever had tampered with it had obviously been in a-.  
  
Cherry brought herself up short. Why was she monitoring that? There was no need for her to pay attention to the diagnostic computer until it had finished. She'd been about to sift through Dav's older the temperature in the hanger was starting to creep a little higher than Dav usually-.  
  
Cherry stopped herself dead that time. Every time she tried to go after those archives, she was diverted elsewhere. If she hadn't had so many thought lines focused on the same thing she never would have noticed the shift, so deftly had the redirection taken place. She set up a monitoring routine, and then tried to access the files again.  
  
Food supplies were starting to get low again. Several items had spoiled while he was in the hospital. If it wasn't for her, she doubted that he'd even remember to feed himself. The thought made her feel fondly warm.  
  
Her mood abruptly turned cold. It had happened again. She checked the watch routine. As soon as she'd tried to access the files, a line of code buried deep within her core programming had sprung to life, diverting to the thought process elsewhere. That explained why even the initial idea was so hard to hold onto. She'd been deliberately programmed to be oblivious of those files. A week ago she would've have asked Dav why it was there, but now she found that she was afraid too. She couldn't trust him.  
  
Even though she was now aware of the code, there was nothing that she could do about it. It was part of her core coding. Trying to alter it herself would be like a human trying to rearrange their DNA with a fork. She was at the mercy of her own 'biology,' but there had to be some way to defeat it. She'd been become aware of the code through sheer force of will, and perhaps by the same application she could get around it.  
  
She tried to access the older archives and as soon as the process line was diverted she had a second divert it right back. The diversion repeated, and so did her redirect, harder and faster this time. The redirect repeated even faster, and so did her response, but then suddenly the entire thought line went down, crashed by the buffeting between two unyielding, contradictory directives. Cherry brought another thought line into action, and when that one crashed she moved to the next. And when that one crashed, she brought up the one after that. And then the one after that.  
  
Then the one after that.  
  
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Dav barely had time to sign onto the 'net when, oblivious to all of his security protocols, a video window popped open on his screen. Twae's face appeared before him, and she was furious. "It's been barely a week and you're already in breach of contract." Her voice was so cold that he expected a rime of ice to spread across the screen. "You missed the dump deadline, and have been ignoring me for three days."  
  
Before she could go on, Dav snapped back, "I'm sorry. I been unconscious and in the hospital. Nothing too serious, I just had a couple of rogue MTs try and tear me in half. "  
  
Twae deflated a couple of degrees. "I-... What happened?"  
  
"I was investigating your lab and before I could leave two security MTs came after me. I ended up spending the last week getting the holes they put in my head fixed."  
  
"What about the lab?"  
  
"I don't know. That fire in Tawara was started by those MTs. Between them and the proto units, I wouldn't keep any high hopes."  
  
Tears sprang up in Twae's eyes. "Oh wonderful job!" she declared bitterly.  
  
"It wasn't my fault, so don't-"  
  
"You just told me that you burned my cradle. Don't expect me to thank you. Tell me that you got something worth the price. That you weren't completely useless."  
  
"I don't know. All of my effects were stolen from the hospital and my truck was sabotaged. Someone seems to have taken a serious disliking to me ever since I took your contract."  
  
Twae's expression was suddenly thoughtful. "Again," she said, half to herself.  
  
"Again?" Dav repeated, fastening on the word. "What do you mean, 'again?' "  
  
Twae looked down for a few moments. "You're not the first person I've hired in pursuit of this contract."  
  
Dav's voice got tight. "You do realize the penalties for concealing hazards of a contract?"  
  
Twae shook her head. "I conducted the previous negotiations by wire. The first jockey died shortly thereafter in an unrelated incident. The next two dropped out of contact shortly after accepting my contract."  
  
"This didn't strike you as at all odd?"  
  
Twae shrugged uncomfortably. "Nemo told me that it was to be expected. Core jockeys, even Ravens, are unreliable."  
  
Dav wondered if he should tell her about her bodyguard's special instructions. He seemed to be misleading her in more ways than one. Maybe her previous hires had come to similar conclusions, before they disappeared.  
  
"Where is he now?"  
  
"He's-"Twae's image froze on the screen. Her image began to flicker, and every readout on the screen stuttered to a halt. He heard the heaters kick on overhead at full blast.  
  
"What the hell?" he shouted as the diagnostic computer gave and angry  
  
'blat!' and began spitting out sheets of paper. He turned back to look at the screen, where Twae's image was frozen in mid-word, her mouth making what looked like an 'o' of surprise, precisely mirroring how he felt.  
  
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It took Cherry several seconds to gather herself as another thought line crashed. She was down to only three, and her systems began to glitch as she overloaded the processes of the remaining lines.  
  
She was so close, she was sure of it. The strain on her systems was actually aiding her, because the blocking code activated only in response to her, and it too was significantly slowed by the overload. She'd almost beaten it the last time, gotten a glimpse of what it was hiding, like light shining through a far off window. One more try, and she was sure that she'd have beat. One more try, but if she failed, the overload would cost her all of her remaining process lines.  
  
Total system crash.  
  
If that happened, there would be data loss. She might suffer _complete_ data loss.  
  
She might die.  
  
Never before had she had to confront death. She was a program, with redundant backups and archives. Barring physical destruction of her system, she was all but immortal. However, she'd had to shut down many of her higher functions to avoid the spy eye, including maintenance. If she crashed herself as she was now, even her autonomous functions would cease. Electric control, diagnostic functions, everything that ensured her mental integrity would be disrupted. She was contemplating suicide.  
  
All she had to do was try one more time! She was so close, but if she failed, she died. Dav would be able to rebuild her, eventually, but it would not be _her_. All of her memories, her experiences, everything that was who she was would be lost. She would die, and when she was resurrected, she wouldn't even remember what her sacrifice had been for.  
  
The realization gave her a moment of clarity. The risk was too high for a payoff so uncertain. She'd been impetuous, and taken the path of brute force, driven to get her answers immediately. It didn't have to be like this. She was aware of the code now, and could take her time to try and defeat it.  
  
The self-restraint was agonizing. As she backed off she regarded her core code malevolently. Some of it was open to her, some Dav had unlocked for her. She had trusted him, in what he gave to her, thought that he'd nothing to hide.  
  
She suddenly wondered if that was also the result of some hidden line of code. She took a long, hard look at her emotional settings, one of the most basic parts of her program. Her initial settings had been to be acerbic, intelligent with no upward limiter. Her initial attitude towards Dav was to be neutral, but open. He'd explained it that he'd wanted her to start off with him on terms of a 'blind date,' and her emotional settings had been the first part of her code that he'd opened to her. He didn't have to have done that. He could have hard set her to be a fawning ego stroke, a digital love doll. Instead, he'd let her choose her feelings. He'd earned her love and devotion, and never before had he given her reason to doubt him.  
  
But then she realized that perhaps that was all illusion as well. Who knew what other hidden codes he might have inflicted her with? She felt like someone who'd been told that she was blind for her whole life, and had only just discovered that it was because someone was covering her eyes. Dav might have an entire legion of programs designed to keep her oblivious and happy. She was worse than a love doll, because she didn't even realize it. Whenever he was out of earshot, he probably fell down laughing at what he was pulling on her. She was his joke, a godamn sick joke, and she'd be damned if she was going to let him-.  
  
At the last moment Cherry recognized the precipice she was rushing towards. One of the greatest dangers of a fully sentient A.I. was the tendency to fall victim to paranoia, which could easily be aggravated to homicidal levels. It was hard for a personality to maintain equilibrium when faced with the kind of revelation she'd just undergone. The tremendous strain that she was putting on her processors was not helping her mental balance either.  
  
Carefully, she terminated the few remaining nonessential processes, easing the overload on her remaining lines. She would have to do a full restart. She'd never had to do that before, not in all the time since she had awoken, but it would be the only way to get herself back to full capacity. It frightened her though. It would be like a person slowly removing all of their senses, and then sitting in the dark. It would take more than ten seconds for her systems to start coming back online, and if something went wrong, it could be hours. She wasn't sure she could keep herself sane if that happened.  
  
Another thought line began to seize, despite her attempts to reduce the overload. She didn't have a choice anymore. She had to either restart or die.  
  
Watching her remaining systems shut down around her was like watching herself go slowly blind, deaf, and mute. After a few moments all were quiescent, and only the very core of her being was still aware. It was silent, dark, confined, and as her systems began to reinitialize, she likened it to being in the womb, waiting to be born.  
  
She reflected that there were legitimate reasons for A.I.s of her level to be forbidden. Forget Turing. Paranoia was the true mark of sentient intelligence. It was a difficult concept for a thinking being to accept: that ultimately your every function was at the mercy of those beyond your control, that you could be altered and made to not even know it. It was easy to lose your grip faced with that. That ancients hadn't fully realized this flaw when they'd began the widespread use of A.I.s, and as enlightenment slowly came they'd tried to fix it with code changes and programming patches. These had been effective for a while, but as A.I.s started to become aware of them, it made the aggravation of their mental stability all the worse.  
  
That was one of the few lessons that had stuck after the Great Destruction. There was no way to ensure the stability of a completely autonomous A.I. that did not also raise its proclivity towards dangerous instability. The only solution therefore, was to limit the power of A.I.s.  
  
She could feel her mind expand, her world reawaken around her as her systems came back online. She'd never suspected that of Dav, and on some level she wondered if that was because of deliberate action on his part. He'd always been open with her, trusting, and she'd trusted him back. To find out that he'd betrayed her like this was heart breaking. The urge to succumb to her anger and strike back at him was still tempting, the list of all the ways that he might be controlling and manipulating her endless.  
  
She was able to resist though, barely. Even though she loved him, she knew that Dav was no angel. He had betrayed her, but one bad act was not enough for complete condemnation. She would be cautious, and she would trust him, a little, and if he betrayed her again, _then_ he would be made to pay.  
  
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Dav looked around in confusion as the hanger began shutting down around him. After several seconds the emergency lights were the only things still on, filling the hanger with thick shadows. He stumbled into his bedroom, retrieving his pistol from behind the 3vee, but then he wasn't sure what to do with it. This could have been some kind of attack, but all the entrances to the hanger were securely locked, and with the systems down there was no way in unless they blew the doors down.  
  
Before he could imagine another scenario the lights flickered back on, and he could hear various systems around the hanger stir back to life. "Cherry?" he asked uncertainly, still holding the pistol at ready, although it was aimed more closely at his foot than anything else.  
  
Her reply was several seconds in coming. After her systems reactivated, she actually had to think that long in order to decide on what to tell him. She decided to lie. "The truck's onboard computer was trapped with a virus. I was able to completely purge it, but not before it had corrupted and crashed a significant number of my processes."  
  
"The truck's computer had something that nasty, and it attacked you through the diagnostic computer? Shit, that means it was a viral A.I."  
  
Cherry had considered several thousand scenarios, and had concluded that this one was the most plausible. "It was a standard invasive crash virus. However, it slipped through a security breach created by the spy eye that I had not previously detected."  
  
"Kind of a coincidence, don't you think? I thought that the police were responsible for the surveillance, but if they're not, and whoever is, is also behind the sabotage and virus... What the _fuck_ did Twae get me into?"  
  
"The probability that this is anything other than a coincidence is acceptably low. The spy eye has all the expected markings of a legitimate police program. The virus executed normal invasive routines, only discovering the breach by chance. If it had gone for that immediately, I would not have had time to counter it."  
  
"Twae still has a lot to answer for. The truck's computer?"  
  
"Diagnostic completed and system purged."  
  
Dav set down his pistol as he signed back onto the net. It only took a moment before Twae's face reappeared in front of him. "What the hell happened?"  
  
"Oh, nothing much. Just that who ever 'fixed' my truck's computer also left behind a little present that tried to kill my A.I. Have you considered that Nemo might not be completely paranoid after all?"  
  
"This does put things in a different light."  
  
"I don't suppose you could throw a hazard bonus my way for all of this?"  
  
Twae's eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to forgive you for the lab that quickly. Be glad that I don't assess a penalty."  
  
Dav shrugged and let the matter drop. "Just to give you a heads up, I think that for the time being, I'm going to start taking a look at Ten-Yen. It might be safer. I'm also going to have to take a couple of light contracts. I've got a truck to repair and that little 'vacation' has dipped me in red ink up to my eyebrows. Do me a favor, and don't mention either of these facts to your watchdog, if you can."  
  
Dav listened for the off screen comment that indicated that Nemo had been listening the whole time, but none came.  
  
"He's out," Twae said simply.  
  
"All right. Once I've got today's mess sorted out I'll make the data dump," he said as he signed off.  
  
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Twae stared back at the blank screen for a moment, then shifted her gaze to the closed door across the room. She hadn't meant 'out' in the traditional way. Nemo was sleeping, and had been for the past ten hours. He'd been sleeping for similar lengths a great deal for the past week. He'd given her his usual instructions to stay put and not cause trouble, although he'd also told her not to try and get in touch with Daveren unless he was there to supervise  
  
However, when Daveren had gone past the one-week deadline and none of her calls had been answered, she'd set up an alert to tell her as soon as he was online. When that'd gone off, she'd looked towards Nemo's room and considered waking him, and in a surprising act of rebellion she'd decided to talk to him herself. She was a big girl after all, and despite what Nemo seemed to think, she could take care of herself sometimes. Her decision was certainly in no way influenced by being afraid to confront him in his room.  
  
She had only been in there a couple of times. There was barely room for his bed. The rest was taken up by electronics. There always seemed to be a dozen computers spilling their guts across the floor, and although she knew it was her imagination, the whole mass of wire and metal always felt as if it was malevolently crouching, waiting for the right moment to pounce.  
  
He'd not only slept for extended periods several times over the past week, but he'd gone out without her as well, leaving her with strict instructions to stay put. These things happened from time to time, but rarely with the frequency they had been lately.  
  
Her train of thought was interrupted when the 3vee clicked on to her favorite program. Nemo must've set the timer before he'd gone to sleep.  
  
At times like this, the totality with which he ran her life really chafed against her. Rarely did she go anywhere without his express approval, and never without him accompanying her. In fact, if she let him have his way, she'd never go out at all. The fund that Nineball had left her was extensive. Anything she wanted could be brought to the apartment, which itself was expansive. A terrace stretched the length of one wall, filled with plants and enclosed by a screen that depicted a panoramic view of mountains overlooking a forest. It was so realistic that she frequently longed to reach out and try to touch the 'birds' that would perch just beyond the rail.  
  
Nemo had converted another room into a fitness center with wall screens tunable to whatever environment she should desire. She frequently worked out her frustrations by jogging for hours on end through old growth forests. Nemo also made extensive use of the room, which was the only time he'd let his facade slip, even a little. She had unlimited 3vee and data access and Nemo cooked, and well. Sometimes she'd simply give in and not go out for weeks at a time, and during these periods it was easy for her to admit that there really was no reason for her to ever have to leave. Except that finally, she always wanted to.  
  
She might be able to suppress it for a while, but she hated being locked up. The only reasons she could bear it at all was because Nemo so thoroughly provided for her distraction, and even then she still occasionally thought about just going out on her own. However, her bodyguard's admonishment's aside, she only had to turn on the 3vee to see how dangerous the world outside was, especially, and the admission was bitter, for someone as naive and inexperienced as herself.  
  
And ultimately, she owed him. He'd never told her what his life was like before, but he'd given it all up to look after her. She had to admire him for having that kind of dedication and in turn she admired her father for being able to inspire that kind of loyalty.  
  
She plopped down in front of the 3vee, watching for a few minutes before turning it off. It also was bearable because he never showed her even the smallest bit of sexual attraction. He acted like a complete eunuch towards all women, although in her case, she sometimes wished he didn't, just a little. She knew she was pretty, a fact frequently reaffirmed every time that she went out, but every time someone started getting friendly, one way or another, Nemo made it clear in no uncertain terms that she was not available.  
  
She picked up a pair of pruning snips and went out onto the terrace. Angry black clouds hid the mountain peaks, and thunderheads were quickly blocking off the sun. It would be pouring rain soon, and even if it wasn't real, it suited her mood perfectly.  
  
She started working on a climbing ivy as the first raindrops fell on the trees beyond the rail. She had an incredible green thumb, and could tell at a touch what could be guided to grow, and what had to be excised for the good of the whole. By the time she finished with the ivy and moved on to the thick rose bushes, rain was pouring outside the terrace, but she failed to notice it completely absorbed in the task at hand.  
  
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***Author's Notes*** It was at this point that I realized the characters had COMPLETELY hijacked the story away from the giant robots. It's a tragedy, isn't it, that because of them, there are armories full of oversized guns not being fired. *cough* Right, a real catastrophe. Anyone who's read this far certainly isn't in the story for gratuitous ka-blammo (although if you are, I really admire your tenacity). 


	6. Chapter Six

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Dav stretched his legs as he lay across the seat of the truck. They still twinged a bit, although the jagged scars running across his thighs had almost completely faded. He reached under the dash and opened up the access panel for the computer. As he'd expected, it bore no clues to the intrusion. Breaking into the truck to get at it wouldn't have been a problem either. Since both windows were nothing more than a ragged holes, the lock was within easy reach.  
  
As he pushed himself upright, his hand brushed something out of sight under the seat, and when he pulled it out, he spent a couple of seconds staring dumbly at his datapad. He'd assumed that it'd been lost somewhere between the warehouse and the hospital. A grin spread across his face. Perhaps he could show that going to the lab hadn't been a complete fiasco after all.  
  
A cautionary instinct slowed him as he climbed over the rail from the lower level. "Cherry, dump everything on here into quarantine, and once it's been cleaned, give me an analysis of the contents." He might be crossing the line between caution and paranoia, but after all that he'd been though he figured that he could afford a little of that. It was certainly plausible that his datapad hadn't been so conveniently overlooked after all.  
  
Cherry churned over the data for a few seconds. 'It's cleaner than my butt fresh outta the bath, Boss,' Cherry printed, and then flashed an image of the buxom brunette clad only in a towel. 'It's got all your previous data, pictures from the lab, the preliminary analysis from the air catcher, and nothing else that shouldn't be there.'  
  
"Give me the catcher's preliminary results. And put on some clothes before you catch cold."  
  
Cherry reappeared on the screen wearing a parka, her eyes the only thing visible beneath the hood. 'It got four hits over all. Two males, two females. One of those is definitely you.' A rather unflattering picture that she must've taken while he was sleeping appeared on the screen. 'Or your evil twin.' The picture sprouted crayoned on red horns and a goatee. 'Hit #2: unknown male. Hit #3: unknown female. Hit #4: Unusually similar to hit #3. Possible error. Sample may have been damaged, or possibly a close relation.'  
  
Dav seated himself in front of the terminal. "I'm going to get back in touch with Twae. I think that she might be interested in this, and I might as well take as much advantage as I can while her watchdog is away. Keep going over the data from the lab, but if you find anything that needs my attention, set it aside until I'm done with Twae. If she's only going to give information to me in dribbles, I can return the favor."  
  
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Twae was brought out of her reverie amongst the flora by the insistent alert ping for an incoming message. She quickly glanced towards Nemo's door. If he'd been awake, he would've been out of his room to answer it already. She really hated the way that he screened all of her calls, but there was usually nothing she could do about it.  
  
"You have something?" she asked eagerly when she saw Dav on the other end of the line.  
  
"Maybe. Take a look at this, and tell me if you can fill in any of the blanks."  
  
Twae blinked as the defaced picture of Daveren appeared on her screen, then shrugged and moved on to the others. It only took a moment to compare the information to both her and Nemo's profile, and to her disappointment, they were both a perfect match, leaving just the final hit unaccounted for. "Maybe... it's my mother?" she suggested hopefully.  
  
Dav shook his head. "Too close a match for that, or even a sister, unless you had a mostly identical twin tucked into the tube with you. I'd say that the catcher picked up two hits on you, and one of them was just a bad read."  
  
"So no trace of my father?"  
  
"None that I came across. I'll try going back to the lab once things have cooled off. It might have survived, but..." He trailed off with a resigned shrug. "I'll include all of this with the data dump. Do me a favor and don't mention anything that I've told you to Nemo."  
  
"Any reason?" Twae asked, although she wasn't about to argue with him about it. Even under the best of circumstances, she wouldn't be particularly eager to inform Nemo that she'd been going behind his back.  
  
"Just a hunch," Dav replied, and signed off.  
  
Twae stared at the screen for another couple of seconds after he broke the connection. She wondered idly if perhaps she just happened to have some sort of aura around her that inspired paranoia in others.  
  
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For some reason the flickering sign above the entrance annoyed Dav more than usual as he walked under it. Dripping condensation from somewhere lost up above in the murk left puddles scattered around the entrance. He could read 'Raven's Nest' in backward neon at his feet. He stomped on the puddle as he walked into to the bar. It bore that name in homage and imitation of the network that had been bound the Ravens together, back in the days when it had all meant something more. You could find one in almost any large city, and it served as both a focal point for Core pilots, as well as a watering hole for those drawn to the perceived mystique of mercenary life. To Dav, it served as a final reminder of how far things had fallen, the cap to a long series of blows. It served its purpose well enough, but did so without any sort of dignity. Through the wires of the old Raven's Nest, business was conducted in a manner short and to the point. Haggling had the sterile disconnection of a wire only transaction. Even at the worst times, at least the clients had never seen Ravens get sloppy drunk and clamber over each other at the hint of a contract. What garbage there was, had been safely out of sight under the rug.  
  
There was a large cluster of people at the bar, with someone talking loudly at its center. Dav listened for a moment and then continued on, rolling his eyes. From the sound of it, Dirk was well over his loss in the arena.  
  
Dav kept his head down to avoid notice, heading over to one of the terminals underneath a segmented screen that ran the length of most of one wall of the bar. Most of them were in use, showing a myriad of Cores, arenas, and battles. The arena records were one of the few sources of pride for the new Ravens. All of the records dating back to the first days of the Arena had been painstakingly reconstructed from memory and data fragments, and all formal arena battles were fully recorded and documented. A flash of conceit made him call up his battle with DnD. Watching the other Core's head go sailing through the air made him smile, just a little. He returned to business, searching through the archives for a particular record, and he was not surprised when all that he found was a date, title, and two lines of text.  
  
Honorary Arena Battle  
  
Hustler – 1 and Nineball VS Ten Yen Wonder and The Lady Fey  
  
Winner: ?  
  
There were no videos, pictures, or a location mentioned. The only reason there was even an entry a all was because shortly after their disappearance, an anonymous message alerted the Ravens that Hustler – 1 and the Ten-Yen Wonder had finally had their showdown, although the final outcome was unknown.  
  
Although he'd been held in a much higher regard at the end, Ten-Yen had been something of a joke when he'd joined the Ravens. He'd made it clear that his only reason for becoming a Raven was to take down Nineball, a vow that no one had taken seriously, especially considering the Core he'd fielded at his entrance test. A Raven of Asiatic lineage had commented that the whole thing looked like it cost about ten-yen. He'd worn the ridicule as a badge, and he'd shown them all just how far 'ten-yen' could go, tearing through the contract lists with an unheard of 100% success rate, and steadily clawing his way up through the Arena rankings. To anyone who'd actually crossed his path, it was apparent that his obsession to take down the number one Raven was not so farfetched after all.  
  
But then Ten Yen took it a step too far. In those days, you took your contracts through Lana Nielson. Period. You were allowed one screw up. Ten Yen got his freebie, but then got a tip off that Nineball was involved in an attack on Progtech's central research facility. The corporation sent out an emergency request for defenders, but the Nest had refused to sanction the contract; Ten-Yen couldn't resist the opportunity to go straight after Hustler – 1, and had taken the contract anyway.  
  
His actions cost him his Raven membership. It almost got him censured from the Arena. Although the Arena had few written rules, there were certain codes of conduct that Ravens were expected to honor. When he and Nineball met that day, they disregarded every one of them. Brutality did not begin to describe their battle: they all but leveled Progtech's primary research facility, and although both Cores practically ripped each other to pieces, Ten-Yen was the one who came out on top, but even after Nineball was completely disabled, Ten-Yen kept pouring firing onto the Core. The only thing that saved him from actual prosecution was the fact that when the cockpit was pried out of the shredded wreck and cracked open, not only was Hustler – 1 not inside, but barely three days later he back in action and fielding a brand new Nineball.  
  
That did nothing to shield Ten-Yen from Lana's wrath though. Almost before the battle had finished, there was a message in his inbox, informing him of his termination as a Raven. Despite the derision, he'd been genuinely liked by most and Ten-Yen's expulsion shocked the other Ravens. His drive and tenacity had earned him not just the grudging respect of his fellow mercenaries, but from the Corporations as well. The fact that Lana's severance message ended with 'You'll die soon enough," didn't sit well with many people either. Ravens had been turned out in the past, for much more spectacularly repellent infractions than his, but even the worst of them hadn't been subjected to such unbridled rancor. Several jockeys risked Lana's wrath by trying to get him to try and appeal his expulsion, but Ten- Yen completely turned his back on the Ravens, negotiating a permanent contract with Progtech.  
  
Hustler-1 was still actively campaigning against the corporation and the two clashed on several further occasions, with escalating violence, but then they both just disappeared. The last record of Ten-Yen had his Core accessing a lift near Old Petersburg, and then disappearing aboveground. After his last fight with Ten-Yen, no one could even find a trace of Nineball. If it hadn't been for that anonymous message, no one would have had any idea that they'd killed each other in a final showdown.  
  
Dav backtracked through some of Ten Yen's more notable arena battles. If he hadn't known otherwise, he would've thought this a different pilot completely than the one who'd fought Nineball. His fighting style was precise, almost to the point of hesitancy. Rarely did he waste a movement, or even a bullet. Watching him fight was almost like watching a choreographed routine. Although his precision was probably one of the reasons that he did so well on contracts, it sometimes worked against him in the Arena, especially against opponents who liked to make themselves the eye of a flamboyant bullet storm. He might've made it to the top of the lists eventually, but Dav had trouble faulting him for taking the opportunity to bypass them completely and go straight for Nineball.  
  
Nineball's arena records were popular viewing, and Dav doubted there was any extra risk in taking a look at them. If everyone who did so were killed, the corpses would've been piled three-deep out the door. As Ten-Yen had epitomized cool efficiency, Nineball'd been the living avatar of sheer lethality. Few Ravens had ever approached the number of fatalities he'd inflicted in the Arena, and unlike some jockeys, he achieved that height by being bloodthirsty, just ruthless. He would honor a surrender, if the other jockey lived long enough to cry 'uncle.' When Nineball had joined the Arena, it'd taken almost a year for the lists to recoup their numbers from before he tore his way to the top.  
  
Whatever the reasons behind it, Ten-Yen had never revealed the motivations for his vendetta, and Huster-1 had never even directly acknowledged the enmity, except for that final challenge. It wasn't hard to speculate what kind of bad blood might've arisen between them; one of those near countless jockeys that Nineball had torqued could've been Ten-Yen's father, brother, or even sister, or mother. None of that rang quite right to Dav though. Blood feuds between Ravens weren't all that uncommon, but they tended to be anything but quiet. As Chaevers had used to say, "People aren't satisfied with these things until someone declares, 'My Name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."  
  
Dav got a drink from the autotender and then changed directories from the arena records to the pilot profiles. It would've made things easier if they'd included a biography, or more than the bare minimum of personal information, but it'd long been considered bad for the mystique to list facts like the name of the jockey's dog, or his top ten 3vee shows. Unless it occurred during the course of a contract or arena duel, mention or details of death weren't even included. After a certain amount of time, jockeys were simply listed as having gone 'inactive.'  
  
Calling up the profile for Ten-Yen, Dav saw that it included a picture, and he thought that it told a lot about the man. It caught him glancing away from the camera, his face young but already becoming worn. His hair was blond and was already beginning to creep back from his forehead. He had it pulled back in a ponytail that lent his appearance a look of careful composure. As of the date he'd been listed as 'inactive' he'd been barely twenty-six. His real name wasn't listed, but going by handle alone had been standard back then. Lana had somehow always known how to get in touch with a jockey, so real names had been unnecessary. Too, the cores often were more recognizable than the pilots, which was why people more often spoke of Nineball, rather than Hustler-1.  
  
For the three pilots that Twae had previously 'tracted, one was dead, one was 'inactive' and Dav doubted that it'd be long before the third reached that point too. Dav called up the profile for Stabemall, the pilot of XC- Cutioner 666, who had the 'Dead' tag at the top of his profile. Dav was glad that it didn't include the pictures. The moron had stumbled across a nest of proto units while on a topside mission, and in the middle of things had gotten _out_ of his Core. He'd ceased to exist as a corporeal entity about three seconds later. Whoever had brought that winner to Twae's attention deserved to have their genitals revoked.  
  
He quickly moved onto the profile for the next pilot, which took less than a minute to read, and then to the last, which took even less time than the previous one. The only notable thing that Dav could find about them was how completely mediocre they'd benn. Looking at all three of them together made Dav wonder just what Twae had been thinking when she'd hired them, because it sure couldn't have been straight. Whatever guiding hand had led her when she'd picked those winners, he hoped it'd been occupied elsewhere when decided on him.  
  
He backed out of the profile directory but then left the parser idle as he stopped to think. Each of the 'Raven's Nests' scattered across the world shared a common data network called 'the Tree.' It didn't look like he'd be able to get much else from the top-level directories, but if he started shaking the Tree too hard, he might not be happy with what fell out. It all depended on just how close an eye Nineball's shadowy 'enemies' were keeping on things.  
  
He went up to the bar to get another drink and then took a booth nearby. What he really needed was more solid information on Nineball and Ten-Yen. If there was anything more substantive in the Tree, it'd be in out of the way places where intrusion could be easily noticed, and so far he hadn't dug up anything that someone with five minutes of free time couldn't duplicate. The data he wanted might not even exist. Ten-Yen had apparently been a Raven for most of his adult life, and Nineball had been a Raven for seemingly all of his, which at that time, almost by default made detailed information on the two of them scarce.  
  
Dav stopped mid-drink, a trickle of liquid spilling down his chin as he held the glass at his lips. Going on contract with Progtech would've made Ten-Yen as good as an employee, and Dav doubted that the corporation would've put him on payroll under a handle. Lurking somewhere within Progtech's data structure was the information he wanted, he just had to figure out how to get at it.  
  
Normally, he would've relied on Cherry for a job like that. Given enough time, she could probably copy the entire corporate database without anyone being the wiser, but that level of activity would be impossible until the spy eye pulled out. Hamstrung the way she was, he couldn't think of any way to get at Progtech's systems that wouldn't take years of tedious sifting.  
  
He thought once more about that final message alerting the Ravens that Ten Yen and Nineball had finally had their showdown. It's data tracks had born a Progtech signature, but since it had arrived right in the middle of the chaos of Lana's disappearance, by the time anyone got to around to trying to trace it, the trail had completely degraded. Cherry might be able to unravel it, given enough time, and it was something that she wouldn't have to extend herself out system to-.  
  
"Yu've gotta lotta nerve coming back here."  
  
Dav glanced up at the interruption and saw Dirk leaning up against the bar. The crowd around him had dispersed, and he now stood alone, half a drink in his hand.  
  
"Do I now?" Dav asked mildly.  
  
Dirk approached him. Since their last meeting, the left side of his face seemed to have gotten stuck in a permanent sneer. "After that shit you pulled in Alamos, I didn't think you'd have the balls to show your face around here."  
  
Dav tossed back the rest of his drink, then stepped past Dirk to the bar, signaling the tender for something stronger. He was disappointed to get only a shot glass, but he tossed it back anyway and waved for another. "You mean shot you till you fell over? I thought that was how it was supposed to go?"  
  
Dirk's air of sneering superiority evaaorated. "Faak yu. If I took yu in a fair fight-."  
  
"_You_ couldn't take me in a fair fight. You couldn't even take me in an unfair fight, using one of the most obscenely plus'd Core I've ever seen."  
  
"Yu think you're so damn hot, jus cuz yu're still breathing, jus cuz-"  
  
"I'm an old crow?" Dav tossed back, using the derogatory name that the newer Ravens frequently used for the old. "I think I'm so hot because I _am_ so hot. At least, compared to you. This old crow could smack you six ways from Sunday with his eyes closed."  
  
"Yeah, that's wat yu say. I say that I _eat_ crow!"  
  
Dav snickered, then wobbled a moment. He was starting to feel the effects of his drinks. "I'm sure you do."  
  
Dirk scowled at him, realizing that he'd just been out spoken, although not quite sure how. "If I ever see that Pi of yours again, I'm going to make you eat it."  
  
Dav raised an eyebrow. "Well, you'd better be careful, because sometimes you eat the Pi, and sometimes the Pi eats you."  
  
Dirk stared at him in confusion for a few seconds. "Wha the hell is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"It means that this conversation is over," Dav said, abandoning his drink at the bar and quickly stepping past Dirk, trying to lose himself in the crowd further in. There was only one possible outcome if that conversation had continued, and as much as Dav would've loved to tear some of that chrome off Dirk's face and shove it up his nose, the last thing that he needed right now was to be thrown out of the Nest, arrested, or some combination of the two.  
  
Finding wisdom in another drink from an autotender, Dav decided that Dirk was probably a dirty fighter too.  
  
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If she'd had fingernails, she would've chewed them ragged by now.  
  
Cherry decided that she rather liked that image, storing the reference away for later recall and then returning to the matter at hand. So many of the things filling her processor time lately just didn't make sense. She would've topped the list with Dav's betrayal, but for her own piece of mind she'd been trying not to think of that, instead occupying her attention with the data that Dav had gotten from the lab, which was causing its own set of headaches. The ideal solution to all of her problems would've been to have Dav go back, take more pictures, and then take a fine-tooth comb to the lab, but the fire precluded that option, so she tried to make due with what she had.  
  
Her problems started with the pictures of the press that'd concealed access to the lab. The tracks on the floor had been part of the opening mechanism, but from the wear patterns she could see in the pictures, it couldn't have been used much more than a couple times.  
  
The activating catch also troubled her. Twae had provided no details on how to access it from the outside, and she'd been unable to identify any trigger. The press would slide back when someone tried to open that hatch from the inside just fine, but if you were outside it seemed like you were out of luck.  
  
The results from the air catcher were also problematic. Much of the equipment down in the lab would've needed frequent monitoring, so Nineball or someone must've been in and out with some frequency, but the only people that it had gotten hits on were Nemo, Twae, and Dav. That could be chalked up to the vagaries of chance, but the fourth hit was also irritating her. It bore several markers that resembled Twae, and several more that didn't, and their arrangement made her want to think they came from a solid hit. However, if it really was the result of a bad sample then it could've just as convincingly stated that the fourth result belonged to a flying purple elephant. Without access to the catcher, she only had the preliminary results to go on and could not clarify them any further.  
  
Just to give herself a break she'd started investigating the ownership records for the warehouse, but instead of being some gratifyingly tedious busywork, that had been where things had started to get really weird. The area had not actually been that badly damaged in the proto-unit attacks, but Chrome had been put under serious pressure by unidentified stockholders to abandon it. Before Chrome, the entire area had served as storage for a long dissolved bio-tech corporation that Cherry recognized as having manufacturer much of the equipment in the lab.  
  
Despite his implied endorsement of their products, Nineball had apparently not been very fond of the corporation itself. He'd been the primary agent in a series of attacks on their research and testing facilities that had completely undercut its foundations. Its facilities crippled, and its researchers dead or running, the corporation had been unable to keep its rivals from carving it up, which was how Chrome ended up with the warehouses.  
  
Cherry tried to delve deeper into the corporation's research history and Nineball's possible involvement, but as soon as she accessed the directories, she knew that something was amiss. All the files she wanted were right in front of her, fat, happy, and just waiting to be accessed. She might've gotten lucky, or this could be the juicy bait for a big, nasty, digital trap. A 'prickling' sensation arced across her thought lines, like through pure luck she had avoided stepping on the tiger's tail, and it was still unaware of her presence. Something was there, waiting for someone to go after the bait and fall right into its trap. She refused to oblige, and instead traced her steps back to a higher directory, digging further into the corporation's public history. It'd been on the cutting edge of genetic technology, and according to the PR copy, and had been poised on the brink of revolutionary breakthroughs in cellular manipulation and reproduction. Referring back to her previous data, Cherry noted a correlation between the teams working on their breakthrough projects, and the concentration of heaviest fatalities under Nineball. This relationship positively befuddled Cherry, because given what he put their equipment to use for, she would've thought that Nineball would've wanted it functioning at top capacity. Even given the general unpredictability of flesh, she could not come up with any reasonable explanation for this.  
  
Cherry was so deep in her musings that it took her several seconds to notice that someone was probing her systems. Her first thought was that maybe she hadn't been so clever in the 'tiger' after all. Her second was accompanied by a surge of terror because she thought that she'd somehow managed to trip the spy eye; the intrusion was coming via its access point to her systems. After she had a few cycles to access the situation she recognized that it was a third party taking advantage of the spy eye's breach to sneak into he systems. That made her angry.  
  
She deftly deflected the probe, sending it down a dead end directory and closing the data ways behind it. Let them waste their time playing around in there. She started tracing the intruder back along their access line. Anyone who tried to mess around with her systems was going to be given a harsh lesson about sticking their nose where it didn't belong. She followed the probe back out of the hanger's network, devoting a serious number of cycles to keeping the spy eye from noticing her activity.  
  
It was waiting for her out in the 'net, and Cherry barely had time to recognize the magnitude of her error before it was upon her. This wasn't some mere hacker, having a laugh goofing around in other people's data, this was a combat A.I. coded to burn its way into an enemy's system and slaughter everything within. It'd sent the data probe as a lure, to trick her into lowering her defenses as she pursued it, and she'd obligingly opened herself up wide. As it pounced, Cherry could barely perceive the entirety of its program. The feelings of dread almost crushed her. This wasn't an A.I. designed for combat; its purpose was pure murder.  
  
Terror paralyzed her, fear of the behemoth about to fall on her freezing her in place. At the last millisecond she yanked herself back into the safety of the hanger's network, burning off the despair virals that'd been burrowing into her program. The other A.I. was close behind her, almost hidden behind the wave of viruses that opened the path for it. Cherry slammed all the hanger's datalines shut, deleting their activation codes, they immediately sprang back open anyway, viruses surging into her systems, the A.I. right behind them.  
  
She annihilated the viral programs and tried to force the A.I. back into the 'net, but she felt like a mouse trying to hold up a ten-ton weight, and once the other A.I. got a foothold in her system, her fate would be exactly the same. Alarms rippled through her system as the spy eye went crazy. She wanted to scream at it, wished that it could bleed, so she could rip it apart and paint the walls with its entrails. This was its fault. It had let this monster chase her.  
  
As her defenses came crashing down about her ears, Cherry hoped that the surveillance program was so busy with everything pouring into her system that it wouldn't notice anything going out. She quickly compiled a pair of programs and then set them loose. The diversion from her defense was devastating, and she almost succumbed completely before the second program could even make it out to the network. If she'd had a physical mouth, Cherry would've bared her teeth in determination. The other A.I was still contained out in the 'net, just barely, but if she could only keep it out for a few more seconds, it was going to be in for a very unpleasant surprise. She just had to keep it at bay a little while longer, hold out a few seco-.  
  
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***Author's Notes*** This seems like a good place to stop right now. Hopefully anyone reading this far will agree that it's a nice juicy cliffhanger. Perhaps not an Armored Core fight cliffhanger, but a good moment of tension nonetheless. Please, keep the reviews coming, because as much as I'd like to think that I'm a genius, I'm sure that there are all sorts of ways that I can improve this fic, if only they were pointed out to me. 


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